


Terrible Angels

by ineedacatalyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, whomp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedacatalyst/pseuds/ineedacatalyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hundreds of miles from home, Kansas in his rear view mirror, his family a distant memory, the future a fixed point and within his grasp, Dean Winchester thinks he's finally outrun his past. Everything is black and white until he meets Castiel, who has been running for almost a decade. Together they discover that demons don't run, they just hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a college AU featuring some spins on some of my favorite characters. Features lots of whomp and my attempts at humor. Trigger warnings for mentions of past abuse, mentions of domestic violence, alcohol abuse, and mental illness. This fic was originally posted on FF, but I decided it was time to start cross posting my stuff here. This is the first of many. I can be found on FF as ineedacatalyst. I should also note that this has not been beta-read, although I tried to edit as much as I could. The town and the college this takes place in are also not real places, since I couldn't find a quaint Oregon college town that fit my "vision" for this story. Enjoy! :)

The first thing Dean notices is his stare. It's fixed, immovable.

Their first encounter, his eyes don't leave Dean. He watches him. Studies him. The way he stares makes you nervous, restless, like you're a butterfly whose wings are about to be plucked off, or a helpless ant stuck under the glaring heat of a magnifying glass. Dean feels like a science experiment the first time he meets Castiel.

He's sprinting across campus one day, trying to get to class on time for once, when he manages to trip over this peculiar man. Dean goes flying forward, feeling the earth come to meet him face first. He hits the ground hard and hears a pained grunting beneath him. Dean manages to extricate himself from a tangle of long limbs and messenger bags, and pulls himself to his feet. The other man is still sitting there, rubbing his cheek where Dean's knee crashed into it and sent them both to the ground.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry." Dean cried. "Are you okay?"

This is when he first notices the steely, almost otherworldly gaze.

"I will recover." The man said, his voice all gravelly and coarse. He locks eyes with Dean. His eyes are a stormy blue, deep and intense, almost _too_ blue.

The man stands up and dusts himself off, his eyes not once leaving Dean. He's about three inches shorter than Dean, with a gaunt figure lost in a baggy trench coat. He brushes some invisible grass off himself and self consciously cards a hand through unkempt brown hair.

"Where's the fire?" He said, still looking annoyed.

"Sorry, I was running late. But fuck it. I'm already 15 minutes late. Can I at least buy you a cup of coffee to replace the one I spilled? I'm so sorry." He said.

"You said that already."

Dean bites his lip. This guy doesn't look like much, but he's certainly intimidating for someone so small. He doesn't blame him for being gruff. Dean was sprinting as fast as he could and didn't even see the guy. He must have literally knocked the wind out of him. He looks down at the ground, where the guy's coffee mug has tipped over and a notebook is splattered with the beverage.

"Your notebook..." He said apologetically.

The man shakes his head. "No worries, I was just doodling." He said, looking down for the first time during the entire exchange.

He reaches his hand over, trying to be amicable. "Come on, let me at least buy you a cup of coffee."

"That would be agreeable." The man said, his voice leveling out a little. "I'm Castiel. And who are you?"

"Dean. Dean Winchester." He said, shaking the other man's hand.

They head to a little coffee shop on campus, not too far from where Dean's class is currently in session. It's the third time this semester he's missed it. Dean curses to himself as they pass the building. At this rate, graduating seems like a distant dream.

"So, where were you headed in such a rush?" Castiel asked while they're waiting in line.

"Just this awful class I keep missing. Can't say I'm too broken up about missing it, but hell, I need it to graduate." He muttered thinking to himself that his fifth year of college isn't going as smoothly as it should be.

"Oh." Cas muttered.

"So, what's your poison?" Dean said, changing the subject.

Castiel looks up at him, looking alarmed. "What?"

"I'm talking about coffee." Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh. I'll just have a large black coffee."

The two of them sat down at a table in the coffee shop, Dean already slurping on his cup of piping hot black coffee, Castiel looking down at his, once again looking uncomfortable.

"So, what class are you missing right now?" He said finally.

"Social theory." Dean said, wincing at the thought of the class.

Castiel actually brightens at the mention of this class, which was giving Dean so many nightmares and preventing him from acquiring his degree.

"Are you majoring in sociology? Grad program?" He asked, leaning forward a little bit, excited by the prospect of Dean actually being an academic.

"Hell no. Social sciences are actually my worst subject. It's the political science version of the course, 'Social Theory of Political Thought' is actually the course title, and it's ridiculous as it sounds. Also, not a grad student."

Castiel's eye twitched a little bit, those eyes, those impossibly stormy eyes, fixated on him. "You look a little old to be an undergrad." He said.

"I waited a few years to go to school." Dean said.

"Why?"

Dean cringed. This was a question he often got. He was in a weird space. Most "non-traditional" students are older, in their 40s and 50s, while "traditional" students are 18-22. Dean is 26, occupying that weird gap in the middle. He wasn't sure why this fascinated people like Castiel so much. He supposed Castiel was the type of person who followed a path: graduate from high school with honors, go to college immediately, graduate in 4 years, get a job, or go for more schooling. Dean wasn't like that. He never had the luxury.

"I just had to take some time off to take care of my brother." He said honestly.

"Oh." Castiel shifted in his seat, his eyes darting back and forth, as if he were suddenly nervous.

"So, what about you? Why were you sitting in the middle of the quad at 8am?"

"I'm a professor here. I like to go through my notes before my first class... drink my coffee... take some time to myself... the quad is actually peaceful in the morning." He said, relaxing a little bit.

"You're a professor? Well, if I'm too old to be an undergrad, then you're too young to be a professor."

It was true. The dude didn't look old enough to rent a car or possibly even drink a beer, let alone teach the malleable minds of American youth.

"I'm an adjunct."

"So you're the school's bitch, basically?"

Castiel scowled, but then he looked amused. "Yes. I suppose you could say that. The benefits for adjunct professors are fairly limited."

"What do you teach?"

"Sociology." Castiel admitted, and Dean knew why had assumed he was in that class.

"So, do you know about 'the Social Theory of Political Thought''?" Dean asked, suddenly more interested in this strange, perpetually staring man.

Castiel snorted. "Not particularly. I believe that if a class has that much rhetoric in the title, then it's probably a pile of crap class, scrabbled together by old men who have never left the classroom."

Dean grins when he says that. He thought the same thing about the class when he signed up for it. Dean is more of a numbers and science kind of guy. There was a reason he had put his social science requirement off until his senior year.

"I do teach a section of the sociology version though- at least I am next semester. This one is simply called 'Social Theory' and I rather enjoy it." Castiel added.

Dean's eyes lit up. "Is it similar?"

"I suppose."

"Dude, Cas, I am seriously failing this class. I am four classes short of graduating. This, a couple of biology classes, and my capstone next semester. That's it. If I fail this class, I will be here this summer and I really don't want to be. Could you help me, maybe?" He said, almost begging.

Unlike Castiel, Dean _HATED_ social theory.

"Cas?" His voice was confused.

"Sorry, I do that. Assign nicknames to people I meet." He said off handedly, "But back to social theory. Seriously. If you help me, I can pay you like $12 an hour and buy you more coffee, since you seem to like it so much." He glanced at Castiel's mug of coffee, which was already drained.

"You don't need to pay me." Castiel said, looking nervous again.

Dude was a bundle of nerves if Dean ever saw one. At first, the guy had intimidated him with his gruff voice and odd way of staring, but now Dean realized that in Castiel's mind, he was the intimidating one.

"I do though. Because I am failing this class and I keep missing it because it's at 8am and god, I fucking hate social science classes."

"Well, okay." Castiel said. "I could probably help you. But you can't keep skipping it or running late for it. To understand social theory, you must be there to witness it. Unfortunately, that is truly the only way to understand classes made up by boring academics." He said dryly.

"Yes! I am psyched I ran you over this morning, dude! You might save my grade!" He said. "When are you free? I can get today's notes from my friend, Charlie and the book and we could go to town!"

Castiel rummaged through his worn messenger bag and produced a business card. He scrawled a number on it and handed it over to Dean.

"That's my cell phone number. I'm never in my office. You can email me too. I'll check my calendar and we can set something up." Castiel said, running a hand through his hair again, his eyes darting back and forth, like he was doing something illicit.

Dude was _twitchy._

"Great! I'm just warning you though—this might take some time—I am _awful_ at this class." Dean said, chuckling, reading the business card and then tucking it into his wallet.

Later that day, Dean met his best friends Jo and Charlie for lunch, as he did almost every day. Jo was Dean's world, his best friend, his closest confidante. He had even followed her to college, which was strange because he was three years older than her. Charlie was her closest female friend on campus and over the last four and a half years, the three of them had become an unlikely trio who did nearly everything together.

"Dean. You missed it again." Charlie said, shoving a potato chip into her mouth. "I know it sucks, but you can't keep missing this class. I chose this bullshit over the international relations class for you and you don't even show up half the time."

"I can't help it, Char, I'm just not good at waking up before 10am." He said.

"Charlie, Dean, my name is Charlie." She said.

"Your name is actually Charlotte." Jo pointed out.

"Shut up, bitch." Charlie said. "Your name is Josephine, so look who's talking."

"Little Joey Potter." Dean drawled, grinning at Jo. Growing up Jo had always gotten exceedingly angry about her television namesake.

"Shut up, asshole." Jo said, tossing a fry at him. "Joey was straight, Joey was boring, Joey was in love with a bro with a greasy blonde mullet. I am not straight or boring, nor would I love anyone with a mullet."

Dean caught the fry in his mouth and gave Jo his trademark smirk. Years ago, he secretly thought he would end up marrying Jo. The dream had ended when Jo had joined the cheerleading squad to woo the head cheerleader, Lydia, and so she could understand why all the football players thought "spankies" were the greatest thing since sliced bread. Now, the only things he was sure about was that he'd be the 'man of honor' at Jo's wedding and that his two very best friends were lesbians.

Some guys are just too cool. That's what Dean told himself about his limited circle of friends, anyway.

"So what's your excuse this time, Dean-o? You didn't even bother showing up late." Charlie said.

"I literally ran over this guy in the quad. I was running and I like, barreled into him. Made him spill coffee all over the grass and his notes, injured his cheek with my knee, and I don't know, I felt really bad, so I bought him a cup of coffee." Dean said.

"Wow, you missed social theory to hang out with another man?" Jo said, raising an eyebrow. "Either there's something you're not telling me or that class is just unbearably awful, like worse than I can even imagine."

Dean threw a straw at her. They were always throwing things.

"Get this though: the guy is a professor of sociology. He teaches the soc version of the class. Like, how serendipitous is that? He's going to tutor me and maybe I won't even need to come to class anymore." Dean said, a smile tugging at his face.

Suddenly, Charlie's eyes lit up.

"Mmm, mm, mm." Her eyes were following someone across the cafeteria.

"Where?" Jo cried, her head nearly spinning off into space. Jo needed to get laid.

"Not your type, Jo, he has a penis." Charlie said, staring.

"If he has a penis, then he's not your type either." Dean pointed out.

"Just because I don't like the equipment doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty. I can appreciate art. This boy is a piece of art." Charlie said, licking her lips and winking suggestively at Jo, who in turn just stuck her tongue out at Charlie.

"Hey! That's the guy!" Dean said suddenly, pointing across the room. "That's the dude who's going to help me pass social theory."

Charlie clucked her tongue and let out a low whistle. "Damn, Dean-o. I can see why you missed class now."

"You're looking at _him?"_ Dean said.

"Well, yeah, I mean. LOOK AT HIM. I mean, I'm done now, since I can only appreciate that kind art for a few seconds, but you feel free to keep staring." Charlie said, leaning back in her chair.

Dean watched as Castiel ordered a large slice of pizza from the girl working at the pizza joint in the student center. He handed her some cash and then grabbed a soda. Castiel looked around the full cafeteria, a worried expression on his face. He watched Castiel balance the tray on one hand so he could nervously run a hand through his hair, which was now so unkempt he looked like a wild jungle animal. The cafeteria was full because it was 1:00pm and it was lunch. Castiel began to walk over to the couches, which was a messy and uncomfortable place to eat lunch.

"I'm going to ask him to sit with us." Dean said suddenly, sitting up.

"You do that." Jo said, watching Dean go.

Charlie stared at Jo and mouthed _"What the fuck."_

Since when was Dean Winchester willing to let another member into their trio?

Dean came over a minute later with Castiel, who was still staring at, well, everything intensely, the trench coat still swallowing him up.

"Guys, this is Cas. The dude who's going to get me out of this school before my five years are up." Dean said, waving at him as if he were displaying a prize animal at a show.

"Castiel." He mumbled.

"What's that?" Jo said.

Castiel cleared his throat, "My name is, uh, Castiel."

Charlie smirked at Dean, "Don't worry, Castiel. Dean nicknames everyone within minutes of meeting them. He calls me Char, even though I hate it. My name's Charlie." She stood up and shook his hand heartily. Charlie was always jovial and social, enough so that she could make someone as awkward as Castiel feel comfortable.

"You're a professor?" Jo said pointedly.

Castiel looked terrified, as if Jo had just said that she knew he was actually a cross-dressing homosexual with a fetish for serial murder. "How did you know that? Were you in one of my classes? If so, I probably shouldn't be fraternizing with you…"

"Dude, chill." Dean said, chuckling a little bit. "I told them about you, it's cool."

Dean watched him as he set down his tray gingerly. Castiel's eyes met a fixed point on the table and he was hunched over slightly, which made him look even smaller. Dean had never met someone so tense. It was as if Castiel expected everyone to immediately judge him or possibly kill him. Dean couldn't believe he had been intimidated by the guy when he ran him down this morning. Castiel seemed more like the kind person who would apologize for bleeding on your shirt after you stabbed him repeatedly in the chest.

Castiel slipped off his trench coat and sat down. When Dean saw how skinny he was, he felt a sudden need to shove several cheeseburgers into his mouth and then feed him intravenously until he looked less birdlike. Charlie was right about one thing though, the guy was attractive, and even Dean couldn't deny that. His eyes, despite their constant saucer-like appearance and the uncomfortable way they always followed you, were a shade of blue that couldn't be found in nature. The unkempt, almost-black hair added a sort of untamed feel to the graceless air he possessed. Dean thought he was cute, like a terrified puppy with beautiful eyes.

Dean shook himself off. Although he was ambiguous in his tastes, thanks to years of involvement in the Portland LGBT community and some experimentation in his younger days, he'd never admit to Charlie or Jo that he was thinking about a _dude's_ appearance this much.

"So Castiel. What's your last name? I can't imagine you can top Castiel, but ya know." Dean asked, reaching over and grabbing a handful of fries off Charlie's plate. Castiel's gaunt appearance made him want to eat more.

"Novak. I am Castiel Novak." He stated, as if it were a test.

"Where are you from?" Jo asked. "Oh, by the way, I'm Jo."

"I'm from Boston." He said, shuddering a little bit.

"Not a fan of Boston?" Dean asked.

"No, it's fine. I just, I don't know, didn't have a lot of good experiences there." Castiel said. Then he stopped, as if he had just admitted something terrible about himself.

"You teach?" Jo pressed on.

"Yes. I teach sociology. Mostly lower level classes, but next semester I will be teaching Advanced Research Methods." He said, beaming a little bit.

"That's great, Cas." Dean said. "So, what's the deal? What's a dude from Boston doing in bumfuck Oregon?"

"It's not that bumfuck." Charlie said, looking a little offended. She was the only one at the table who was actually from Oregon.

"I attended school here and decided to stay. Personally, I prefer the country, the west coast, to the bustle of the city and the… well, stiff upper-lippiness of the east coast." Castiel said.

"Stiff upper-lippiness." Charlie repeated. She smiled. "I like that."

Castiel looked embarrassed, but slightly pleased.

"So, Cas, do you have a girlfriend?" Jo asked, shooting a conspiratorial look at Charlie.

"What? No." Castiel said, a blush creeping across his face. He stared down at his pizza like it was the most fascinating object on the planet.

"Neither does Dean." Charlie said, smiling at Jo.

"What? Why would that matter to him?" Dean said.

Castiel cleared his throat loudly, took a huge bite of his pizza, then grabbed his messenger bag and began to rifle through it. He pulled out a thick sketchbook, with a cover that was covered in abstract doodles and stickers advertising a band that Dean didn't recognize. He grabbed a pen out of his bag too and opened the sketchbook. Dean stared at the doodles on the cover, a bunch of abstract lines that formed the shape of a bird. Of course this weirdo was an artist too.

Charlie's conspiratorial look changed to one of surprise when she saw the sketchbook. "Whoa, you like Melt Banana?" She said, her voice rising. She leaned forward, long red hair obscuring Dean's view. Dean cleared his throat, but Charlie ignored him.

"Yes." Castiel said, sounding surprised. "You know them?"

"Oh my fucking God, Cas, I love them! They are one of my favorites, like ever!" Charlie enthused.

Dean knew she was unbelievably psyched too. Charlie listened to the strangest, most obscure, most unlistenable music Dean had ever had the misfortune of hearing. When she found a fellow fan of this crap, she always became far too excitable.

Charlie got up and moved to Castiel's side of the table. Dean snorted. He didn't know why Charlie and Jo had been implying that he and Castiel suddenly hook up. Charlie had been the one to 'recognize his beauty' and now she was acting like he was the second coming of Christ just because he liked some weird-ass electronic noise. Jo scooted over and came to Dean's side of the table.

"So, Jo. You have class, right? Want me to walk you?" He asked, shooting a glare at Charlie, which she missed in her rapture over finding a Melt Banana fan.

"Of course, Dean. I could never find my way without you!" Jo said, her voice dripping sugar and spice.

"Sure… uh… Cas you good here?" He asked, since he'd hardly gotten a chance to talk to the guy before Charlie had latched onto him.

"He's good." Charlie said, answering for him. "So, Cas… have you seen them live? Oh please tell me you have…"

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his stuff. He'd talk to the lovebirds later.

When they were out of earshot, Dean stopped to yell at Jo because of the lesbian power duo's awkward comments about him and Castiel.

"Jo, what the hell was that back there? DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND? DEAN DOESN'T EITHER?" He said, emphasizing the second part.

Jo rolled her eyes. "We were just playing with you, Dean. The guy is awkward and, I don't know, I thought it was funny. Plus you _were_ staring at him like he was a piece of steak."

"I was not."

Jo pushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and gave Dean a Cheshire cat grin. "Yes, you were. You were staring at him the way I stare at Dita Von Teese or Charlie after I've had a few too many. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Why'd you have to pick at the guy? I mean, yes, he's socially awkward, but you probably made him feel worse." Dean said, suddenly very annoyed with Jo and Charlie, surprisingly more so because they'd made Castiel feel uncomfortable.

"The guy clearly needs to loosen up a little, Dean. I mean, hell, you saw how much more at ease he was when he found out Charlie liked that crap band named after fruit. I saw how relieved he was when you came over and invited him to sit with us. I have known him 10 minutes, and I can already tell he doesn't have many friends." Jo said

"You can't possibly know that."

"If he has friends, why does he sit alone on the quad? Why doesn't he have someone to eat lunch with? I actually think I've seen him around before, sitting on benches alone, and shit. Messing with people is my way of making friends."

She shrugged. "Plus, Dean, he was looking at you like you're a piece of steak too." She added.

"Jo!" Dean said. His voice was heavy with warning.

Jo swatted at him and took off running to the doors in the student center, laughing at him. Dean rolls his eyes. He didn't know what his teenage self had been thinking. It'd be idiotic to marry Jo.


	2. Chapter 2

A week passed and Dean was still failing social theory, so he opted to set up a tutoring session with the strange sociology professor who had literally came crashing into his life.

Charlie said they'd spent about 20 minutes talking after he and Jo left that day at lunch, that Castiel had actually opened up a little bit, indicating that his first impression might not be his best. It turned out he and Charlie shared a passion for terrible, ear-shattering music and they both were artists (Castiel painted and drew, Charlie was into graphic design). It also appeared that Charlie, despite being gay, had a man-crush. Dean could tell because she wouldn't stop talking about Castiel and actually asked if she could come with Dean to his tutoring session.

After begrudging the notes from all of his missed classes from Charlie and convincing her that, no, she could not come with him to watch Castiel teach him the difference between classic and post-modern social theory, Dean set up a time to meet .

The two of them met in a study room in the library. Castiel had insisted that they would get nothing done at the cafe or at one another's apartments. Dean admitted it to no one but himself, but he was actually curious to see the decor of Castiel's apartment, wondering if it'd match his odd personality.

Castiel came in to the room, once again sporting the baggy trench coat. He was wearing glasses, which made Dean wonder if his saucer-eyes had been an effect of poor vision. He threw his stuff down on the table and sat down.

"Hey Cas." Dean said, grinning at him.

"Hello Dean." Cas said, staring him down with those x-ray vision eyes of his.

"Dude..." Dean began, ready to ask him about that stare.

"What do you have for me?" Cas interrupted. I need to see your notes, textbook, graded tests, and any study materials so I can glean how much time this will take for the two of us."

Dean blinked. Castiel sounded so confident. It wasn't intimidating like the first time he met him either. Castiel actually sounded like he was ready to get down to business, like he actually knew what he was doing.

Dean pulled out everything from his bag and set it in front of Castiel. Castiel's eye actually twitched when he saw the mess of papers and the textbook that still smelled new, indicating it hadn't been cracked too many times.

"Well." Castiel murmured. "I guess can work with this."

Over the next two hours, Castiel attempted to teach Dean social theory. He taught it from a political perspective, which Dean appreciated, since he had to put it all in the context of "political thought." By the end, Dean actually could DEFINE social theory and the first two weeks of notes were clearer and not just a bunch of chicken scratch on a page. Castiel assigned him reading and exercises from the book, which the professor had been doing too, but Dean had never really put much effort into, since none of it made sense.

"I hope this helps." Castiel said as they left the library. "I honestly thought you were just lazy and skipping class, but it appears you really don't understand it."

"I'm not lazy. It might seem that way, but seriously, I ace my biology classes, I rock at history, and I even really like analyzing and writing fiction. It's just this social science crap I don't get."

"You like science?" Castiel asked.

"Yep. I love it. I love science, whether it's chemistry, physics, or biology. Physics is actually my favorite, but it's almost too abstract for a guy like me. Plus, biology? I can cure diseases and shit." Dean said, puffing out his chest a little bit.

"Cool." Castiel said, actually sounding like he meant it.

Dean became serious for a minute. "That's what I want to do when I'm out of here. Grad school, maybe med school. Then I want to go into research. I can't wait until I'm working in the lab all night long, analyzing samples, splicing genomes, or whatever they need me to do when I finally get there."

"You want to work in research? That's rare. I hear it's boring. Most people in your situation want to become doctors." Cas said.

"I don't want to be a doctor, at least not in the traditional sense. Doctors save people, but they don't find cures, they aren't at the forefront. That's where I need to be. I need to be at the front lines. I need to help people. There is so much we can do. So much I have to do." Dean said. He felt his voice rising and he knew he was getting carried away, so he shut up.

Castiel glanced at him, looking surprised, but didn't say anything. "Wow. So we need to get you out of here, then." He said.

"Social fucking theory isn't keeping me in this school for another semester." Dean said, staring at his feet. "So, that's why you need to help me, at least once a week. Until I get my D."

"I'd be happy to." Castiel said.

Dean and Castiel started meeting once or twice a week at the library. Dean started waking up at 7:30 instead of 8:00, so he could make it to social theory by its 8:10 starting time. His other classes were cake. Sensory neurobiology? Simple! Human genetics? Fascinating! His capstone class next semester, the Advanced Study of Molecular Biology of Human Disease? It was going to be absolutely fucking wonderful. A 200-level political science class? It was his downfall, which Dean found almost embarrassing. Bit by bit though, Castiel was helping Dean understand the pointless rhetoric of this introductory political science course.

Castiel also started eating lunch with him, Charlie, and Jo on a semi-regular basis. Charlie was creepily obsessed with Castiel, which Jo and Dean found hilarious. Castiel didn't reveal much about himself in the three weeks that he spent integrating himself into their lunch circle. They knew he liked screamo and that he liked to paint. They knew he was smart: he'd started college when he was 16 and that he was Jo's age and already had earned a master's degree and a job teaching. They knew that he liked to sit on the quad in the morning, where he'd drink coffee and grade papers. Otherwise, Castiel Novak was a mystery.

It was a Tuesday and Dean and Castiel had just finished yet another social theory tutoring session. Dean was already so bored with the material that he felt like crying every time he opened his textbook, but at least it made some sort of sense now.

"Well, I suppose I will see you on Wednesday for lunch." Castiel said, pushing his glasses up his nose as they walked out of the library.

"It's only 8 o' clock. I don't have class until noon tomorrow and I know you have the day off." Dean said, glancing at his phone to double check the time. "How about a beer?"

Castiel grimaced, "I don't go out much." He said.

"A beer isn't going to kill you." Dean said. "Neither will going out at 8pm on a school night."

Castiel thought about it for an unnecessarily long time and finally agreed to one beer. Dean took him to his favorite bar in town, a pub that was known for its cheap pitchers and totally awesome jukebox. Dean ordered them a pitcher of Killian's and the two of them sat down in a booth near the back.

"So, Cas, what's your story?" Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer. He'd been dying to ask this since he had met him.

"Not much to tell." He muttered.

"Oh come on, man. You're like this super genius who I literally ran over on the quad. Now you're saving my grade, yet you refuse money for tutoring. You like screamo and you draw the most bizarre shit I've ever seen. Not to mention, you have a lesbian who is head over heels in love with you. You're mysterious." Dean said, chuckling a little bit about Charlie.

"Charlie isn't in love with me. She just likes outsiders." Castiel said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Charlie is not an outsider. Girl has more friends than anyone I know. She's in a freakin' band that once opened for Tom Petty, dude." Dean said.

"Charlie appreciates my otherness." Castiel said quietly.

"Your otherness? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, come on, Dean. I'm an odd duck, I know that and so do you. I know I come off as strange to people. I've always known that. I think Charlie sees that in me and appreciates it for what it is. One of the things I like about her is that she doesn't try to figure out why I am the way I am. She just… appreciates it." He said, looking into the depths of his beer.

"Do Jo and I make you feel uncomfortable? Do your other friends?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling guilty about always watching Castiel.

"Everything makes me feel uncomfortable." He said, smiling a bit.

"Why's that? You're a cool guy, Cas."

"It just… does. I see the way you watch me, Dean, like you're expecting me to do something outrageous. I feel your eyes. I feel everyone's eyes. I know I'm weird, especially when you first meet me." He confessed.

Dean softened. "You're not strange. You just have this way about you, this wide-eyed, intense look, and when you talk, it's nothing like that. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable around me. We're friends, right?"

"I'd like to think so. I don't have many friends." He murmured.

"Well, buddy, you've got us! What's your family like, then?"

"I don't have any family." Castiel tightens the grip on his glass and takes a long swig, waves of resentment suddenly coming off him like heat.

"Oh God, man, I am so sorry. I had no idea."

Dean is horrified with himself. For some reason, he views Castiel in almost a voyeuristic way. He's so curious about his new friend, so intent on getting to know him, that he never really considered why he might be keeping everything so close to the chest. He can't help it; Castiel fascinates him, in almost a morbid way. Admitting this to himself doesn't make Dean feel any better.

Castiel is quiet for a long time and then he finally sighs raggedly and opens up.

"I grew up in foster care." He admits. "I never knew my parents. I was only 6 months old when they disappeared from my life. I lived with my grandmother until I was 5 and then she died. She was the only family they could find. I spent the rest of the time in different foster homes."

Dean doesn't know what to say that. One of his friends at home in Kansas was adopted, but she was adopted when she was a baby and actually met her biological mother when she was 16. He has never met anyone who grew up in the system. And he thought _his_ family life was rough.

"A lot of bad things happened to me when I was young." Castiel said. "Things I won't talk about. There are other parts of myself too, things I don't want to discuss, but that's why I'm so… I don't know, guarded."

"How many places did you live when you were a kid?" Dean asked, trying his best to ignore the comment about "bad things."

"I guess... seven, not including living my grandmother? Seven different homes and a stint in a rehabilitation center." He said, actually laughing a little. "Luckily, when I was 15, I had foster parents that actually gave a crap. They got me an IQ test, helped me get caught up in school, and well, here I am now."

"School was your escape." Dean said carefully.

"School is the only element of my life that has ever been constant for me. It's the only escape I've ever had from, well, the shitty hand I was dealt." Castiel said, laughing some more.

"Are you still close with your foster parents?"

"They send me cards and money on birthdays and Christmas. If I'm in Boston, we'll get dinner, but otherwise, I don't see them." Castiel said, shaking his head. He poured himself another beer.

"God, Cas. I had no idea. You don't seem like you've been through all that. You're not as strange as you think." Dean said, settling back in the booth.

They spend the next couple of hours chatting over beers, the conversation becoming more natural and less depressing as the pitchers are refilled. Dean discovers that Castiel was offered a full ride to attend Parsons, but turned it down to attend school in a small Oregon town because he hates big cities. Dean tells Castiel a little about his brother and his mom, but not everything. There is a mutual love of baseball, something that surprises Dean because Castiel is so bookish. Castiel votes Democrat and thinks pot should be legalized and Dean admits that he's a Libertarian. They argue over the validity of Ron Paul and over whether or not SNL is still funny, all these years later. Castiel is a good conversationalist and as he loosens up, Dean discovers that he has a sharp and funny sense of humor that he had only witnessed in sparks before. Around 11, they are both pleasantly buzzed and Dean realizes that he genuinely likes Castiel, almost as much as he likes Charlie and Jo.

"Dean, what is the deal with you and lesbians?" Castiel says halfway into their third pitcher, an easy smile playing on his lips. It is probably the most natural smile that Dean has ever seen on his face.

"I don't know. Jo is my oldest friend. I thought I was in love with her all throughout middle school and part of high school. Then Jo was gay and I realized it wasn't happening. Charlie, well, there aren't many lesbians with dudes' names around here, so she and Jo bonded. She was Jo's friend, and now she's my friend, and now we're a package deal." Dean babbled, thinking fondly of his friends.

"How did you and Jo meet? I've always wanted a childhood best friend." Castiel said wistfully.

"Her parents, Bobby and Ellen, own the auto shop where my mom worked as the clerk/accounting person. Her family kind of looked out for me and Sam when we were growing up. Ash, Jo's younger brother, is actually Sammy's best friend." He said.

"You are so unbelievably lucky."

Dean frowns when he sees the regretful, envious look dancing across Castiel's features. Dean had always considered himself unlucky. An absentee, drunken father, a mother who tended to bail when life became too rough, and a younger brother with enough problems to keep Dean occupied until the end of time. He had never considered it from another perspective. This made him feel even worse for Castiel.

"Don't feel sorry for me." Castiel commanded, as if he were reading Dean's mind. "I'm happy where I am now. Happy to be sitting here with you, more buzzed than I have been in months, happy not to feel like a fucking freak for once."

Dean couldn't help it; he reaches across the table and takes Castiel's hand. It's warm and surprisingly calloused, probably from all of the drawing, and surprisingly, Castiel doesn't pull away.

"Cas, you're not a freak." He said softly, staring at this enigmatic, strange new friend of his.

Castiel smiled serenely. "You don't know the half of it."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean walks Castiel home because it's the right thing to do and because Castiel is far more intoxicated than he let on at the bar.

It's early October and the air is just beginning to get nippy. Dean loves fall. It's his favorite season, with the air smelling perpetually of bonfires and dead leaves. He has fond memories of celebrating Sam's birthday, which falls on the same day as Halloween, and for years it was the best, because they'd get to trick or treat and eat birthday cake, all in one glorious day. It's nostalgic for him now in a bittersweet way, since Dean hasn't been home in two years. Dean glances over at Castiel as they walk up the block to his apartment complex and Dean wonders if Castiel ever celebrated Halloween as a child.

They arrived at Castiel's apartment complex, one of the two located in town. Jo had actually lived in the same building during her junior year.

Castiel fumbles for his keys and turns to Dean. "Would you like to come up and see my place?" He asks, almost shyly. "I rarely have people over, so it'd be nice to actually show people I don't sit around in the dark listening to screamo while painting portraits of dead people."

Dean hesitates. Castiel is drunk and Dean feels incredibly sorry for him right now. Dean also feels this strange bond with him and for some reason, he was dying to get to know him. Dean rarely felt this way about people anymore and he wasn't sure what it was about Castiel. Coming up to his apartment after a night of drinking almost seems like a bad idea. Then he sees the way Castiel is looking at him, so hopeful, and he remembers what Castiel said about not having many friends, and he can't say no.

They walk up a flight of stairs and walk down an unremarkable hallway and Castiel unlocks the door to his apartment. Once inside, Dean recognizes it as having the same basic set up as Jo's apartment: four walls, a narrow kitchen, a small living room and a bedroom the size of a refrigerator box. Dean walks in and observes the walls, which are covered with horror movie posters and a series of large paintings that are awash in varying colors of dark green and crimson. Castiel has a respectable leather couch and an even more respectable sound system, and a TV that looks like it has been around since the 80s.

"You're a horror fan?" Dean observes, taking note of the vintage looking Psycho poster above the couch.

Castiel shrugs. "What can I say? I like noisy music and violent movies."

"Psycho is one of my favorites." Dean said. "The Birds too."

Castiel grins. "I love the Birds. Hitchcock is amazing."

 _The more you get to know a person, the more they surprise you._ Dean thought.

He never would have pegged Cas as a horror fan.

"These paintings." Dean motions at the wall. "These yours?"

Castiel blushed. "Yeah, I know it's kind of lame to put your own work on the walls, but no one ever sees them anymore, so…"

"These are awesome, Cas." He stares at the painting, taking in the violent strokes of the brush, the way the color bleeds together and the dark shapes and lines that come together to form what look like faces, insects, shadows and licks of fire. Dean doesn't know what they are, but they disturb him. "What are they supposed to be?"

"I painted those my freshman year of college during a studio class. We were supposed to paint a series of memories from childhood. Ridiculous, I know. There's a reason I didn't stick with art here. I can't even really explain what came over me when I did those…" He said, his voice fading away.

"They're amazing. They're scary as hell, but, man, you have real talent." Dean said admiringly.

"Thanks, Dean. Seriously, thank you!" Castiel gushed.

Dean turned to Cas, who wore another ridiculously large smile. It occurred to Dean that it had probably been a long time since anyone had complimented Castiel's art skills. Otherwise he wouldn't be gushing so much.

"Do you want a beer?" Castiel asked, changing the subject. "I don't drink much, maybe a beer or two after a long day, so I have some in the fridge."

"Sure." Dean said.

Dean feels very awkward. Castiel had offered him a beer and he accepted, which meant he expected him to stick around for awhile. He actually felt out of place in this very clean and very cool apartment. Dean had expected there to be textbooks and papers and paint everywhere, for it to be as disheveled and rushed as Castiel seemed in person. Instead, the apartment showed a more accurate portrayal of Castiel: he was an artistic person with unusual taste in music who liked to chill with a Hitchcock movie and a beer after a long day of teaching. In other words, Castiel was just like Dean in many ways, except Dean can't even draw stick figures.

Castiel ambled over to the stereo. "Anything you feel like hearing? I have a very large music collection."

"Um, not Melt Banana or anything like Melt Banana." He said, frowning just a little, hoping he wouldn't offend Castiel.

"Do you like Cocorosie?" He asked.

Dean shrugged. He'd never heard of Cocorosie. His tastes tended to lean more toward Ozzy, Zeppelin and Alice Cooper.

"Oh, it's very good. Female indie rock, of course. Very mellow, almost haunting."

He sounded like a Pitchfork review. Charlie would be creaming herself right now.

Castiel put on the music and went over and sat on the couch. Dean sat next to him, making sure not to get too close. The vibes he was getting from Castiel and the way he personal felt so uncomfortable, yet also totally himself, was wigging him out. Plus the music coming from the stereo was making him feel drowsy, like he was about to fall asleep in a field full of dandelions.

"Dean, can I ask you something?" Castiel said carefully.

"Sure, Cas. What is it?" Dean said, giving him a lazy smile.

"What do you think of me, like honestly?"

Dean blinked. The question seemed totally out of left field, especially since he thought Cas was more comfortable tonight than he had been since he had first met him.

"Why do you ask?" Dean said.

"I'm just wondering. Like I said, I don't have a lot of friends. I don't know. I don't want you to hang out with me just because you feel sorry for me. If I thought that was why you were here or why you were seeing me outside of tutoring sessions, I wouldn't have told you about my, um, background." He said, staring at the wall behind him, his eyes darting back and forth again, like they had when they'd first met.

Dean thought for a second. He wasn't sure how to answer that without lying or making Castiel angry. He did feel pity for him, but it wasn't in a negative way. He was actually impressed with the way Castiel had come from a background like that and done so well for himself academically and economically. He knew he had to choose his words carefully.

"I think you're a great person, Cas. I mean, I don't see why you don't have many friends. Yeah, when we first met, I thought you were kind of strange, but I get it. Getting to know you the last few weeks, seeing how quickly Jo and Charlie took to you, it's clear to me that you're a cool dude who deserves everything good in this world." Dean said.

"Do you feel sorry for me? Do you like me?" He persisted.

"Shit dude, I feel bad for anyone who grew up without a home. But look at you now. You're a smart guy with a real job and some kick ass taste in music and movies. Not to mention the whole artistic genius thing. And duh, of course I like you. I wouldn't be sitting here with you if I didn't, believe me." Dean said finally.

When Castiel had asked Dean if he liked him, Dean knew he was seeing a side of the other man that he had never seen before. Castiel was sitting there hunched forward, hungry for approval. He was practically begging for it. His eyes were wide, slightly wild, and Dean saw a bit of the child who had spent the better part of his life being shuttled from one foster home to the next.

Castiel looked pleased and settled back into the cushions. Dean didn't know if it was the beer or intimacy of being alone in his apartment that was making Castiel so open to him after being so guarded. He wasn't sure why Castiel would choose him, of all people, to be the one who saw his true personality.

"This is pretty." Dean said, listening to the music. "Much better than Melt Banana."

"Why do you give me so much shit about Melt Banana?" Castiel said.

"Because they suck."

"Charlie likes them."

"Charlie has awful taste in music."

Castiel giggled. "Dean, seriously, once again, what is with the lesbians? I have never seen you around anyone else. Just lesbians and friends of lesbians."

"It's the dream of most men to have two lesbians to himself all of the time. I don't know why you're hassling me about it." Dean said, grinning at him.

"You're a male fag hag." Castiel said.

"Take that back! I am not a hag."

"Is that why you don't have a girlfriend? Charlie and Jo are enough for you?"

Dean shrugged. "It's not important to me right now. What's important is graduating, starting my career, Jo and Charlie and somehow making sure my brother doesn't go bat shit again from 2000 miles away." He said, almost too casually.

Cas stopped. "What's wrong with your brother?"

_Oops._

Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Oh, um, I thought I'd told you about that. Sammy, well, Sammy has some issues. Some mental ones that tend to… cause trouble in our family."

"Is that why you stayed at home after high school?"

"Well, yeah. My mom kind of bailed for awhile and my dad, well, he kind of sucks and only comes around every 6 months or so. Sammy needs someone around, like, most of the time." Dean said, vowing not to say anything more. He was not a sharing and caring kind of guy and Castiel already had enough baggage of his own.

"I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, sipping their beers, listening to Cocorosie croon about werewolves and schizophrenia and creepy fathers and skinny, tall brothers and with those lyrics, it almost became too much for Dean.

"Can I have another beer?" He said hoarsely, draining his bottle.

"Of course."

Castiel rushed into the kitchen and brought him another beer. He handed it to him and Dean took it silently.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean swallowed. His entire reason for majoring in biology, going into research, his determination to search for a cure that probably didn't exist was Sam. Yet, Dean hadn't been home in years and he hadn't talked to Sam in weeks. He was a dismal excuse for a brother.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking about Sam, I guess. I haven't talked to him in awhile. I was just thinking about what I'll say when I call him tomorrow." Dean said. Of course, he hadn't been thinking about that, but now he was determined to set aside a chunk of time tomorrow to talk to his younger brother.

"What's wrong with him? Like, what exactly?" Castiel asked.

"I don't want to get into it, Cas. I'm sorry man, but that stuff is personal, like too personal." Dean said, snapping a little.

"I'm sorry." Castiel murmured. "I swear. I won't bring it up again. I'm really sorry."

"Dude, don't apologize. It's not a big deal at all. I just don't like talking about it, just like you don't like talking about certain things. You don't need to feel bad about it." Dean said, turning to his friend.

Castiel's face was creased with worry and he looked unsteady. He was hunched over and his right eye was twitching. Dean glanced at his hands. He had both hands wrapped around his bottle and he was clutching it so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"Cas, are YOU okay?" Dean said, staring at him, suddenly very worried. "Man, seriously, you don't worry about it. I'm not mad. You and I are perfect, okay?"

Castiel nodded weakly. "Okay." He said.

"Why don't you put the beer down?" Dean said easily. "Come on, put it on the table.

Castiel didn't move. Dean reached over and plied the beer from his hands. He set it on the table.

"Cas?"

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I can't… I hate it when I get like this."

"It's okay. Come here. I'm just going to give you a little hug, okay? Nothing serious or bad. Just to show we're cool."

Dean reached over and pulled the smaller man into a very loose embrace. Castiel actually shuddered against him, as if it was the first hug he had ever received, as if he hadn't been touched in years. Dean realized that there was a good possibility the latter part might actually be true. He held him close for a minute until he felt Castiel's body relax. He was so tiny compared to Dean that it was like hugging Jo.

"Cas, what happened there?" He murmured, breathing into his hairline.

"I don't like making people I like angry. I told you, I'm a freak."

"Once again, you're not a freak, Cas. Look, I'm not mad, either. You and I are totally cool and look, we're close. Would I be sitting here cradling you like a baby bird if I were angry or didn't like being around you?"

"I guess not." Castiel said, his voice evening out.

Dean let him go, but continued to hold his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze to further illustrate his point.

"You're good at dealing with people like me." Castiel muttered.

"It's a part of the Dean Winchester package. Stick with me and you'll get to reap all of the benefits." Dean said, smiling at him.

Castiel smiled back at him, a ghost of the smile he had earlier, but a smile nonetheless. Dean's heart ached for Castiel. Clearly the guy had been through some unspeakable shit during his life. Dean still thought he was dealing with it remarkably. Seeing him sitting there, those amazing paintings behind him, the strange music playing in the background, Dean wished he could convey to him that he was sitting here for reasons beyond pity and free tutoring. He just wasn't sure how to do that without risking breaking Castiel into tiny pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

Jo and Dean were lying on his bed watching Dr. Sexy MD. Jo was wearing a pair of sweats and a bra, sucking diet coke from a straw. Any other red-blooded American male would have found this irresistible because Jo was gorgeous, but mostly Dean couldn't stop noticing how noisily she was slurping.

"Jo, seriously. It's not a dick. You don't need to suck it so hard." He said.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, you sexist pig." She said, tossing a pillow at him.

Dean sat there for a minute.

"I think I'm going to call Sam tonight." Dean confessed. "I haven't talked to him in two months."

Jo sat straight up, grabbed the remote and muted the show. Onscreen, Dr. Sexy kissed a buxom woman wearing a half-unbuttoned nurse's uniform.

"Two months, Dean? Christ." She said.

"I know." He mumbled.

"Have you talked to your mom or his doctors? Do you have any idea how he's doing?" Jo asked, her voice rising.

"If something happened, they would have called me. My mom would have called me and I'm still his emergency contact if she's not around."

"Why two months? I mean, it's Sam. Your baby brother. You dropped everything to take care of him and now you're not even calling him?"

"Do you call Ash every day?" Dean retorted.

"Of course not, but I go home more than once every two years. I also talk to him at least once or twice a week. And Ash isn't schizophrenic, Dean. He isn't going to…" Jo cried.

"I KNOW!" He shouted. "Fucking shit, Jo, I know better than anyone what he could do, because he's done it and I've taken care of it. You don't need to lecture me. Goddamnit." He swore, staring at the ceiling.

Jo softened. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just worry about Sam. Ellen and Bobby do too. Ash, may we have mercy on his idiotic heart, still thinks that Sam is going to snap out of it."

"He won't." Dean muttered.

"So, what's the inspiration for this change in your idiotic heart?" Jo asked, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on. God bless her, she knew him so well that she realized when he needed her to get dressed.

"Cas." He said.

"Castiel Novak? Your tutor and our occasional lunch buddy?"

"Yeah. We hung out last night and I don't know, Cas has been through some shit, Jo. I don't know exactly what, but I can tell. He literally has no one. It just made me think about Sam, and what he'd do if he didn't have me or my mom. Cas came through it, but Sam wouldn't."

"What happened to him?"

"Well for one thing, he grew up in foster care. His entire family is dead or just gone, I don't know, he wouldn't talk about it." Dean said. Normally he wouldn't reveal this kind of information to anyone, but it was Jo, and he trusted her with everything.

"Goddamn." Jo swore. "I thought he was weird, but shit, that explains everything."

"I know."

"The way he is around new people, the way he watches, the always recoils like he's about to be smacked, those nerves, well it makes sense now. God, I feel like such a fucking asshole for all those times I teased him."

"You didn't know. Now you do." Dean said simply.

Onscreen, Dr. Sexy performed a brain transplant. Dean wished it were that simple.

Later that day, Dean stared at his phone. He had texted Jo to tell her that he was about to make the call, in case he somehow lost it during the conversation and needed her support. Sam's number was open on the screen, a dopey picture of his younger brother smiled up at him. Dean had picked the photo for his caller ID photo because it was taken the last time he was home. Sam had been lucid, doing so well, and Dean wanted to remember it because he knew he wouldn't be coming home for a long time.

He pressed send. There were a few rings, and then a tired sounding voice answered the phone.

"Hello?" Sam said.

Dean closed his eyes and smiled. It was so good to hear his voice.

"Hey Sammy."

"Dean? Is it really you?"

"Yeah, buddy. It's me. How are you doing these days?"

Dean talked to Sam for three hours. Sam was so doped up on Haldol that he kept drifting away and forgetting what they had been discussing. Despite that, his voice was steady, he remembered Dean, and even brought up how his birthday was in three weeks. Sam told him about how he was taking a class at the local community college, a creative writing class. His doctor thought it'd be good for him to write during his lucid periods. He asked Dean about school, about Jo and Charlie. Finally, Sam told Dean, so hopefully, about how he had been on the same four medications for three months now.

_Dean, I haven't heard voices for three months now. I haven't even been wandering! I take the bus to school by myself and last week, I even applied for a job. Do you think Mom will let me move out, finally? I know how tired she is._

Sam wanted to move out more than anything. He wanted to go away to college. He wanted a girlfriend. He wanted to be able to drive the Impala again. Sam would never be able to do any of those things. Even when he was lucid, the side effects of the drugs he took daily made him physically and emotionally unpredictable.

Most of all, Sam didn't want to be a burden to his family. Dean would never say it out loud to anyone, but Sam would always be a burden. He would always be sick.

When Sam had first started displaying symptoms, hearing the voice of Ruby, his 'demon temptress', convinced he could kill demons with his mind, convinced that everyone around him was possessed, Mary Winchester hadn't been able to handle it. She had run away to Ohio to live with her sister. She told her sister that Sam and Dean's father had been hitting her and she was finally getting away from him. While she was gone, Sam was diagnosed and Dean deferred college and got a job at a factory to support him and to pay for his medications. When she came back five months later, she and Dean had settled into a routine caring for Sam. Three years later, convinced Sam was well enough for Mary and his doctors to handle, Dean had left too.

When Dean finally hung up the phone, he lost it. He fell onto his bed, his body racked with pain and he let the floodgates open. Sam broke his heart. He loved his brother so damn much, but he didn't want to be near Sam. It was too painful for him to see his little brother, once so handsome and smart, so popular with women, so completely broken now. Dean hated him for being schizophrenic, he hated his mother for leaving when Sam was at his worst and he hated his father for never being there at all. Most of all, he hated himself because he couldn't stand to be around the one person who trusted him more than anyone in the world.

Dean was so consumed with grief over his broken family that he didn't even hear the door to his room open.

"Dean?" A soft voice said. Dean felt the bed shift below him.

"What?" He said gruffly. His head still buried in his pillow.

"Jo called me… she has to work, or she would have been here… she knew you were…. Dean, are you alright?"

Dean peeked out from the pillow. Castiel was perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes full of concern, and if Dean didn't know any better, he'd say love.

"Cas, what the hell? Jo called you? Why didn't she call Charlie? Wait, scratch that. I don't need any of you. I'm fine." Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to hide the evidence that he had been crying for the last 20 minutes.

Castiel shuddered when he said that, but kept his composure.

Dean sat up. "I called my brother." He said weakly.

"He's very sick, isn't he?"

"Yeah, Cas. He's sick." Dean muttered, thinking about how slurred Sam's voice had been through the entire conversation, how he kept going off on tangents about completely unrelated topics, how Dean could tell, even over the phone, how hard it was for Sam just to stay focused and awake.

Castiel just watched him with those creepy, electric blue eyes.

"My brother is schizophrenic." He said finally.

Castiel just sat there, looking at him curiously, as if he were urging him to go on.

"My brother is crazy and I can't stand to be around him. I know that's horrible and it's not his fault, but God help me, Cas, just talking to him on the phone is impossible. Just hearing his voice makes me feel like I was run over by a train." Dean said.

His throat closed up again and tears tugged at his eyes. He couldn't believe he was telling this to someone he had known for a month. Charlie was one of his best friends in the world and he would never admit that to her. It was too horrible.

"I hate myself for that. I just… this is what he will be like for the rest of his life, and I can't fucking handle it." He choked. "I haven't been home in two years. Until today, I hadn't spoken to my brother in two months. I can't… I just can't."

Then Castiel did a curious thing. He scooted over to him and rested his forehead against Dean's and reached in and kissed him, so lightly he barely felt it, on each one of his eyelids.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again." He whispered.

"What?"

"Sylvia Plath, God rest her soul, had some good lines. Honestly, that's my mantra. I say those words whenever it becomes too much." Castiel said, eyes closed, a slight smile on his face. "Dean, what you're feeling… well, Sam understands. What you're feeling is totally to normal. I'm sure to Sam, you're his constant, what is there, when all is born again."

"Cas, what the hell are you talking about?" Dean said hoarsely.

Castiel hesitated, and then finally spoke. "I know what it's like, believe me, I do. But when he wakes up, becomes lucid, it's like being born again. Every time he wakes up, just know that he will always love you. You were there when the levee broke and you'll always be there. In his head, he knows this. You should know this too."

Dean stared at Cas, who was still slouched against him, forehead to forehead. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at him through impossibly long eyelashes, his eyes still stupidly blue, but this time, instead of looking electric, they just looked understanding and warm.

"Cas, you beautiful, strange creature." He whispered.

Not wanting to do anything else, he leaned in and captured his mouth in his and kissed him deeply, passionately, allowing some of his pain to fall away. Suddenly Castiel seemed a lot sturdier than he had the night before.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss. With most of the people Dean had been with, kisses had been nothing more than a prelude to sex or hooking up. He had kissed a lot of people during his 26 years. He no longer remembered every name and he had even kissed Jo on more than one occasion, typically when some kind of intoxicating substance was involved. To him, kissing meant nothing. Kisses were nice, like a breeze on a warm day, but ultimately Dean had always found them inconsequential.

Dean knew this wasn't the situation with Castiel and he was fretting over this. He wasn't sure what their first kiss had meant and he hated that he had to find some kind of purpose in it. Knowing Castiel, he knew he had to find it quickly. He knew there was potential for it to mean nothing. Cas had been there for him during a vulnerable moment and, despite what he had told himself in the beginning, he had always found the other man attractive, although he hadn't thought about it too much. On the other hand, Dean also knew there was potential for it to mean everything, because of the simple fact that he had been vulnerable with Castiel in the first place.

After the kiss, Castiel had clearly been stunned, but to Dean's surprise, he didn't say much about it. He had stuck around for another 15 minutes. Dean told him more about Sam and the other man eluded more to his own issues with mental illness. Then Jo called and said she was leaving work early. Castiel had left before she had arrived, citing a pile of papers to grade, and had left without a word.

Two days after their first kiss and his conversation with Sam, Castiel invited him over to study while he graded papers. It was the first time Castiel had ever invited him over directly. Castiel sounded totally normal over the phone and that made Dean feel better. Maybe it wouldn't be weird.

He arrived around 7:00, grateful that they were hanging out together without social theory, without Jo and Charlie. He knocked on the door and Castiel answered, wearing a pair of beige cords and a grey t-shirt. Dean realized he was seeing him with new eyes, because he hardly ever noticed what Castiel wore, and on this night, he couldn't help but notice how tight the pants were. Dean knew going to be difficult to study that night.

"Hello Dean." Castiel said, smiling at him.

"How's it going, Cas?" He asked, coming into the apartment.

"I am well. Unfortunately I have two dozen short answer tests to grade." He said, sighing. "Would you like something to drink or eat?"

Dean shook his head, remembering what happened the last time they drank. "I'm good."

Dean sat down on the couch and they spent the next half hour working without much distraction. He glanced at Castiel, who was hunched over papers, glasses falling down his nose. He watched as Castiel actually grimaced at an answer on the test, and scribbled something in red pen.

"You actually use red pen to grade your papers." Dean said. They hadn't said too much since he had arrived and it was making him uncomfortable.

"Yes. I feel like it gets the message that something is incorrect across more effectively than any other color." He said, as he crossed an answer out.

Castiel's glasses fell further down the bridge of his nose and he didn't move them back up. A piece of long brown hair fell in his eyes. Dean couldn't help but notice how unbelievably adorable he found Castiel right now. He was like the typical geek-hot librarian in every porno that Dean had ever watched. Compulsively he reached over and moved the glasses back up his. Castiel glanced at him, but didn't say anything, so Dean let his hand linger on his face. He moved his hand up to his forehead and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He slowly pulled his hand away.

"You need a haircut." He said affectionately.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked.

"Nothing… I mean… I don't know." Dean said dumbly. He felt his cheeks heat up.

"I need to work, Dean." Castiel said roughly. "These need to be done in the next two days."

"Sorry." He muttered, and returned to his work.

They worked in uncomfortable silence for another 10 minutes, when Dean heard a laugh escape from Castiel's lips.

"Christ." Castiel muttered. "Failure. You are a failure."

"What?" Dean asked, feeling very small all of the sudden.

Castiel sighed. "This class is a collection of the dumbest human beings I have ever met. This particular test, well, it's almost painful how low the average grade is so far. This guy though… God, he's a moron. "

"Maybe he's like me." Dean said, smiling a little bit. "Bad at this stuff."

"No, this guy, I seriously cannot tell if he is being sarcastic, or if he's being serious and he's just that stupid. A little background, right? I'm teaching a section right now about the view of women in western culture throughout history. In this question I asked about the difference between the French and American views of femininity. Want to know what this guy said?"

"What?"

"This is verbatim. His answer to this question is _'Americans view women as being like Marilyn Monroe, while French men view women as being more masculine. This may be because American women shave their body hair, but French women do not. French women are more like men because they are hairy.'_ This guy fucking wrote that. Can you believe that?" Castiel said, looking appalled.

Dean couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Hearing this, Castiel did too. They laughed uproariously for a few minutes, until they were both crying.

"He also… this leads me to believe he may be fucking with me… said that women got the right to vote in 1950. Like. Seriously. 19-fucking-50." Castiel choked, more giggles escaping his lips.

"Does this guy ever come to class? Like have you ever heard of him?" Dean gasped. He was laughing so hard he felt like his sides might split open.

"Of course not! It's a larger class, but I don't even recognize the name! I checked that actually and he's only come during test days. I mean, really. What the hell? Why would you even bother?"

Dean wiped his eyes and caught Castiel's eye. The more he got to know him, the more at ease his friend became. Castiel's disgust at his students' stupidity was so _naturally him._ Castiel was also a fantastic teacher, something that was reflected in Dean's current "C" grade in his political science class. Castiel wasn't the mouse that Dean had met last month.

Castiel shifted in his seat and curled his legs underneath him, the way only someone skinny could. Dean felt his eyes drinking him in, the natural curve of his lithe figure, the tousled brown hair, full and perpetually chapped lips, and the glasses that he only seemed to wear while he was working. Dean felt himself swallowing, throat suddenly dry. Why was he just now noticing how fucking attractive this guy was? Why had a lesbian noticed before he had?

"What?" Castiel said, sounding slightly alarmed.

"Cas, can I ask you something? Tell me if this is out of bounds too. But do you like, uh, other dudes?" Dean asked hoarsely.

Castiel snorted. "I've always been told that my appearance makes that relatively obvious."

"So, uh, you do?"

"Well, yeah." He admitted, shrugging a little bit. "I mean, I assume after what happened the other night, that this wouldn't be a problem for you? I kind of assumed you did too?"

"I mean, I don't know, since I was like 20, I've always kind of… kissed who I've liked, regardless of gender or sex. I've been with a couple of guys and it's been fine and I really enjoyed myself, I suppose. But the other night though, so, that was okay?" Dean asked, tripping over all of his words. Why was Castiel suddenly making him feel like a 15-year-old girl?

Castiel shifted some more and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Well, it was fine." He said finally. "I'm not going to lie, it surprised me and it's definitely been a very long time for me, but I can't say I minded." He said with a shrug.

"Okay." Dean said, licking his lips, which were suddenly _so fucking dry._

"Okay then." Castiel said, blinking a little bit.

Dean returned to his biology problems, mostly because all he was thinking about now was Castiel's mouth, the way his hipbones seemed to poke out of his cords and the way he was sure Castiel was flexible and how much fun that could be in bed. He couldn't focus though, because all of the blood in his brain seemed to have moved down to his crotch and _goddamn_ did he feel like a horny teenage girl.

Dean was staring at a question about XY chromosome disorders when he felt Castiel scoot over on the couch, his face less than 8 inches from Dean. Dean glanced over at him. Castiel had taken off his glasses, but there were still a stack of ungraded tests in his lap.

"Cas." He said simply.

Castiel didn't say anything, just stared at him. Dean couldn't read him, but it was obvious that he was tense, but it wasn't necessarily in the way Dean was used to him being.

Dean chuckled nervously. "Seriously, has anyone ever told you that you stare?"

Castiel still didn't say anything, but his eye seemed to burn hotter. For once, Dean felt himself returning the stare and suddenly knew exactly what Castiel wanted him to do.

"Cas… the way you are looking at me right now. Well, biology suddenly seems like less of a priority." Dean muttered.

Castiel actually growled at him a little bit, which almost sent him over the edge. Dean thrust his homework on the coffee table in front of them and grabbed him and kissed him deeply, almost savagely, sending the papers in Castiel's lap flying to the floor. Castiel moaned into his mouth and returned the kiss with equal urgency. He threw the remaining papers onto the floor and climbed onto Dean's lap, straddling him. He wrapped his arms around Castiel's narrow shoulders and pulled him in closer, and he was caught in a frenzy of hot mouths, tongues, and Dean wanted to _devour_ him, every last inch of him. Castiel's hipbones dug into his waist him like twin prongs and he felt his own hips involuntarily bucking up to meet him. Dean moved his mouth from Castiel's mouth, down his throat, nipping slightly, mostly out of necessity and Castiel let out a yelp, as if he wasn't expecting it. Dean sucked at the sensitive skin between his shoulders and neck and Castiel let out a guttural groan. That noise alone made Dean to return his mouth to Castiel's, because if he made that noise again, this would be over in seconds. Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and kissed him sloppily. Dean kissed him back and then had to pull away because he had to breathe and the couch simply just _would not do_ for the things he wanted to do to the other man.

"Bedroom." Dean hissed. "We are going to go to your bedroom."

Castiel nodded and began kissing him again and Dean was left with no other choice. Dean lifted him up, grateful Castiel was so light, who giggled and dropped his feet to the floor. Castiel grabbed his hand and led him into the tiny bedroom, almost dancing the whole way. The bedroom was darker and sparsely decorated, and they flew into Castiel's bed, pawing at each other, clothing removed quickly. They were down to boxers, suddenly Dean realized what was about to happen and he had to say something.

"Cas, Cas, wait." He stared down at Castiel, whose mouth was currently on his stomach and was moving southward quickly.

 _My dick will hate me for this, but I have to say something._ Dean thought.

Castiel stopped and stared up at him through a thick shade of eyelashes, eyes wide and filled with lust. Right now, he was almost feral and his body was so fucking lean and perfect and the things he wanted to do to that body were so goddamn sinful that Dean felt dirty just thinking about them.

"What?" He said, hot breath on Dean's skin.

_Goddamn. I hate myself._

Castiel didn't move, so Dean leaned down and tugged Castiel up by his shoulders, so they were face to face. He leaned in and planted a kiss on Castiel's lips.

"What did I do?" Castiel said, his voice almost a whimper.

"Oh god, baby, you didn't do anything. You are so fucking perfect." He said hoarsely, kissing him again, not wanting to stop.

"Then what is it?" Castiel sighed.

"We need to slow this down. Believe me, I don't want to, god, that is the last fucking thing I want right now, but it's right." He murmured into Castiel's mouth.

"Why?"

"Because… Cas, I like you. I really like you a lot and I don't like to rush into this with people I like." Dean whispered, kissing him again, because right now, those lips were the most kissable things on the planet.

Castiel moaned and kissed him back. Dean raked his fingers through his hair and held him close, trying not to ravage him more than he already had. He felt Castiel grinding against him, begging for it, and Dean had to pull away.

"Cas." He groaned through his teeth. "Come on, Cas. Keep doing that and I'll lose all of my senses."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Cas mumbled, reattaching himself to Dean's mouth.

"It's too quick. God, Cas. Ugh." He moaned, falling back into the kiss.

"I love it when you call me Cas. I've never had a nickname." He breathed.

Hearing him say those words that made Dean realize that they had to stop. After all, Castiel had never even had a nickname and fucking someone as needy as him this quickly was fucked up and wrong. No matter how much he wanted it, that something Dean couldn't do.

Dean pulled away and sat up. Castiel groaned and flopped backward into the sheets.

"What? What is it?" He whimpered. "Come on, Dean, I want this, I need this. I want you. I promise, I will make you feel so good. "

Dean stared down at him. Castiel looked so fucking hot right now, laying there with his red and pouty lips, heavy-lidded eyes, and his body so ready to submit. To put it bluntly, he looked like he was ready to be fucked. There was no other way to describe it. Staring at him, thinking about it from a perspective other than his dick's, actually sent a cold chill down Dean's spine. Something deep inside Dean told him Castiel had been here before and that he thought that his body only existed to bring men like him pleasure.

"Cas, sit up. C'mere." He said softly.

Castiel blinked, once, twice, and then sat up and scooted the edge of the bed.

"Yeah?" He muttered, looking down at the floor.

"I would love nothing more than to do everything imaginable to you. You know what though? We have time. I want to wait a little while with you because I _like_ you and I want us to have a connection that is more than sexual." He said into Castiel's ear.

"Really? Is that really why? You don't think I'm bad at this? Because you know I can-" Castiel said, turning to him.

Dean cut him off by placing a finger to his lips.

"Shhh, no, no, not at all. Whatever made that stupid idea pop into your head needs to go away. You are beautiful and you are incredibly hot and I absolutely enjoyed what we did tonight. But for now, what we did is enough for me." He murmured.

Castiel didn't look convinced. "Okay." He said finally, nodding a little.

Dean leaned in and kissed him chastely on the lips.

"How about now we go try to finish the work we were doing before you so rudely interrupted it?" He whispered, running a finger over Castiel's bottom lip.

It worked and a laugh escaped Castiel's mouth. They got dressed and went back out into the living room. Dean was actually able to focus on his biology questions now.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Dean came clean with Jo during another Dr. Sexy MD episode. For some reason, the show made him honest.

"I almost had sex with Cas." He said casually.

Jo choked on her beer. "W-wh-what?" She gasped, coughing.

Jo grabbed the remote and this time she turned off the television.

"Yeah." He admitted. "Almost." He added.

Jo stared at him as if he had just sprouted horns and a tail.

"What?" Dean said.

"Castiel Novak, your tutor, Charlie's obsession, and the guy who you think is so damaged you won't even let me tease him about his trench coat? You fucked him?!" She demanded.

"I said almost, Jo. We didn't go all the way."

"Dean, Christ. What is it about this guy? For one thing, Charlie says you actually show up for class now and I assume that's his doing. Secondly, I thought you were over your bisexual phase and had returned completely to women! Since when are you into men again?" Jo said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just because it had been a couple of years since I'd hooked up with a dude doesn't mean it was a 'phase.' You of all people should know this." He said, actually feeling rather hurt at her insinuation.

Jo opened her mouth to say something and then stopped. Dean knew he had hit her in a sore spot.

When Jo had come out in high school, everyone in their group of friends had insisted it was a phase. A few of them had quit talking to her. Until recently, her father, Bobby, had referred to that period in her life as 'Jo's experimental era.' The truth was that Jo didn't look like a "typical lesbian" with her long blond hair and affinity for sundresses, which Dean thought was a ridiculous reason for assuming someone was "experimenting." Jo was definitely into women and sometimes Dean felt like he was one of the few people in the world who was totally okay with this.

"I'm sorry." She said. "That was shitty of me."

"Yeah, it was." He said. "But don't worry, little Joey, we are fine." He said wrapping an arm around her and giving her a hug.

Jo relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder. "So, what was it like?"

"It was amazing. Jo, I think I like him, like a lot. "

"Is my Dean in lurrrrrrrve?" She crowed, returning to her usual, sarcastic form.

Dean ruffled her hair. "I don't know, Barbie doll. But it was great. It was sexy and fun and I have jerked off three times in the last day and a half just thinking about it."

Jo shoved him off her. "Oh gross! Dean! I don't want hear about you jerking off! You're like my brother!"

Dean burst out laughing. "Just paying you back for that bitch comment!" He crowed.

Jo got serious. "So you like him? You like this guy enough to date him, be in public with him as his boyfriend and to take some time away from biology and studying and all of that?" She said.

Dean stopped laughing and stared at her. Jo had a point about the 'public' part of the equation. Although Dean had screwed a few guys in the privacy of his own home, he'd never been affectionate with one in public, nor had he ever taken one home to Mom. Jo would know better than anyone what that was like.

"I think so. I think… well, yeah. I do." He admitted.

"Does he know about Sam?" She said cautiously.

"Yeah, he does. I kind of had to tell him about it that night you sent him over in your place. I told him though. I told him almost everything."

Jo's eyes widened. Outside of his immediate family, Jo and her family were the only people close to him who knew about Sammy. He had told Charlie a glossed over version of the story, but otherwise, Sam was his secret.

"So this is a real thing?" She said slowly.

"I think it might be. I don't know, Jo. I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long fucking time. I mean, it's kind of weird that it's with a guy, but in the grand scheme of things, you know that doesn't matter to me." Dean said.

Jo nodded. "What about his… um… baggage? I mean, I really only know what you've told me and what I can glean from being around him, but I'm kind of under the impression that the guy has a few issues."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't matter to me. That's why I want to go slow with him, but I've got baggage too, so no, it doesn't matter. Sometimes it's best to find someone to share your issues with, you know?"

Jo let out a low whistle. "So, Dean-o, you are falling in love? Is that what this is?"

He just shrugged. He couldn't say that right now. This _thing_ with Castiel had only just begun.

"Speaking of… baggage. No, I don't mean that. Fuck that. It's family. How is your brother doing, Dean?" Jo said.

This time too, Dean told her everything.

The next day, a beautiful and merciful Friday, Dean decided it was finally time to get his small, but beloved circle of friends to hang out outside of lunch. Over a series of text messages, Dean set up dinner and drinks with Cas, Jo, and Charlie. A part of Dean wanted to announce that he and Castiel were 'a thing' now, but he hadn't had the other man's approval, so he did it under the guise of the end of midterms.

The four of them met at a Mexican restaurant in the center of town. They walked because the town just wasn't that big. Sometimes Dean went on drives in his beloved Impala just to remind himself how much he loved driving. The place was popular because it was notorious for serving underage Oregonians huge margaritas.

"I used to drink here all of the time when I was a freshman." Charlie said wistfully as they walked in to the restaurant.

Dean snorted. Charlie had grown up in Plainville, so he was sure she consumed alcohol here long before freshman year.

"Charlie, I love how you're wistful for your hometown, which you currently still live in." Jo said, reading Dean's mind.

He glanced at her and she winked at him. God, he loved Jo.

"I don't know why you always make fun of me for being a townie. This place is amazing. There is a reason I didn't go to Portland." Charlie said, faking annoyance. Dean could tell because she was smirking.

"Don't worry, Charlie. I love it here too." Castiel confided as they sat down. "If I were a townie, I would never leave either."

Charlie looked slightly outraged, but Castiel was radiating honesty and light, clearly not understanding the dynamic between the three of them, so she didn't say anything. She simply patted him on the shoulder.

"Cas, you are such a dear." She said. "You are just the cutest thing! I am so happy you are Dean's tutor!"

Castiel just smiled, a huge smile, a smile that looked innocent, but wasn't, because he was currently rubbing his hand up and down Dean's thigh under the table.

Dean gulped and shifted in his seat, trying to look like he wasn't sprouting a huge boner at a family restaurant, with his two best friends sitting directly across from him. He knew it going to be a long night.

One margarita and two bowls of tortilla chips into night, Dean was visibly sweating. Castiel's hand had continued to paw at him under the table, at his thighs, one or two discreet swipes at his crotch, and at one point Cas had actually attempted to play footsie with him. He kept pushing his hand away, but the other man was persistent. Dean had no idea Castiel could ever be this brazen, but he guessed that Cas was just really comfortable with Jo and Charlie.

"So I'm thinking about getting a tattoo." Charlie said, running her finger around the rim of her enormous margarita to get at the salt.

"What tattoo is that?" Castiel said brightly. Too brightly, because he was currently curling his fingers around Dean's inner thigh.

"Now, don't laugh, but I'm thinking about getting Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a 20-sided die. Maybe on my ribs or my thigh." Charlie said, tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear.

It worked because Castiel stopped his groping to gape at her. Dean just chuckled.

Jo, of course, burst out laughing. "What the fuck, Charlie? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of, and this is coming from you!"

"I don't know you guys, I was drunk at Seattle Comic-Con last year and this guy drew it for me and I've always really liked it." Charlie said helplessly.

"Well." Dean said. "I'm sure that no one else in these Americas has that tattoo. At least it'd be original."

"See, Dean gets me. Dean, you think Princess Leia is a babe, right? What about you, Cas?" Charlie said.

"I'm more into Han Solo, myself." Castiel said, waggling his eyebrows at her. He took an enormous drink of his margarita.

"Really now?" Jo said. "Cas, I never would have guessed!"

Jo winked at Dean again and he had to restrain from pouring his drink on her head.

"Isn't it obvious?" Cas said, giggling. His tolerance was _low._ Dean had to remember that.

Charlie just looked shocked, but she quickly regained her composure and gave Castiel an easy grin. "Cas, I am so glad you started hanging out with us. I can't believe it took until our senior years to discover you."

"He's a diamond in the rough." Dean said.

Jo kicked him under the table and licked her lips suggestively. Dean kicked her back, harder than he intended because she actually winced. He mouthed her an apology, even though he wasn't really sorry.

"I am so happy you all are my friends." Castiel sighed, sucking back his margarita like it was mother's milk. "I've never had friends like the three of you before. You're so much fun. You're so accepting. No one has ever been so kind to me."

Charlie actually looked like she was about to cry when he said that.

"D'aw, Cas." Dean said affectionately. He reached under the table and squeezed _his_ thigh.

Finally, their dinners arrived and Dean was able to breathe for awhile.

"So Cas, why are you so shy at first?" Charlie said through a mouthful of chicken Fajitas. "I mean, at first it seemed like you were terrified of us. Which there is no reason to be scared of any of us, except for Jo, because Jo is a bitch."

On cue, Jo through an ice cube down her shirt. Charlie squealed. Dean had never felt so at ease.

"New people make me uncomfortable, I guess. I mean, I loosen up, right? I just don't think I make the best impression. Sometimes I think I rub people the wrong way." Castiel said.

"That's weird, though, because you're, like, fucking awesome. Like, literally you're one of the coolest people I've met since I've been here." Charlie said.

Castiel shrugged helplessly, and waved down a waitress.

"I would like to order a round of tequila shots for everyone at this table." He said seriously.

"Sounds good, hon!" The waitress said. She looked directly at Charlie and gave her a huge smile. "Charlotte Bradbury! It's been awhile! How's your daddy doing?"

Charlie, for some reason turned red. "Oh, Bonnie! He's doing great. Retiring next year, actually."

"That's wonderful to hear." Bonnie said. She turned to face the table. "Isn't Charlotte here the best? She used to be so cute. So chubby as a child! You've really bloomed into a beautiful young woman, dear."

Charlie looked horrified and everyone, even Castiel, burst out laughing.

Dean had never been happier.

Bonnie brought them their tequila shots, with a round on the house because she adored Charlie. They did them one after another. Everything was bright and hazy, they were laughing so hard and the four of them were truly perfect. At that moment, Dean was convinced that this happiness was endless. He didn't even care when Castiel kissed him on the mouth in full view of Charlie, Jo and the entire restaurant because he tasted like salt, tequila, sunshine and God, Dean knew at that moment that he could fall in love with him. Charlie and Jo just squealed like old grandmothers and screamed "I KNEW IT!" and they were off to their next bar.

They walked down the main strip of town, still laughing like banshees. The three of them were drunk from the margaritas and tequila shots. Dean glanced over at Castiel, who hadn't stopped smiling the whole night and even though his eyes were unfocused and watery, Dean didn't worry, because he was there to anchor him. Dean knew that nothing could go wrong on a night like this.

The four of them walked into the bar, the only place in town with a dance floor, immediately ordered another round of shots. Charlie and Jo were out there immediately, putting on a show for all of the men in the bar, who just assumed they were drunken college girls trying to get men to buy them drinks, which was about half true.

Dean was drunk enough to sit in a booth located near the back of the bar and make out with Castiel, kind of glad he had a moment alone with him.

"Dean." Castiel breathed, almost moaning. "We should go to the bathroom."

"I don't hook up in public places." Dean whispered. "Just wait until we get back to my place. I promise."

"Why are you such a prude?" Cas breathed into his ear. "I just want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so hard. It's all I've been able to think about for days now. You are such a fucking prude though. What am I the first guy you've ever been with? Come on, let's get out of here."

Dean pulled away. "Cas, I said no. It's only 10:30. We have time." He said a little more sharply this time.

Cas just giggled and nipped at his ear. He drained his beer and stood up to go to the bar. Dean grabbed his hand. Cas turned and looked at him.

"Cas, I think you should chill for a moment. We're all pretty drunk. Come on, come back to me." Dean said, motioning at him.

Castiel hesitated and glanced at the bar. He sighed and sat down. He didn't try to kiss Dean again and didn't say another word about the bathroom or getting out of the bar. He just sat there, staring at Dean with those eyes of his, and Dean felt cold. They didn't say one word for the next few minutes. On cue, by the grace of some higher power, Charlie and Jo came to the booth, red-faced, hair wild.

"We really had them going." Charlie said, laughing. "I love this town."

"In Oregon, it's cool to be gay you know. Especially if you're a hot chick. One reason I never want to leave." Jo said, grinning at Charlie.

"That's actually fairly typical." Castiel said, nodding at Charlie.

"And no one hassled you guys?" Jo asked, semi-seriously. "I saw you going at it."

"Don't worry, Dean put a stop to it." Castiel said, his voice rough.

Jo's eye twitched and she shot a glance at Dean, trying to glean what had caused the change in Castiel's giddy demeanor. Dean and Jo could usually communicate without talking, but this time Dean had no idea what to say to her.

The four of them sat there for awhile, chatting about nothing, Charlie and Jo draining the drinks that two men at the bar had purchased them. Charlie bought Castiel another shot and Dean didn't say anything, because who was he, Castiel's mom? After that, Castiel began drinking freely again, downing two more shots of tequila. After that, Castiel began to get kind of _mean,_ making sarcastic comments about the people around them, pointing out one or two students of his who were in the bar, calling them "absolute fucking morons." Jo and Charlie seemed to notice the change as much as Dean did, because every time a cruel word escaped his lips, he saw them both cringe. Minutes ticked by, and eventually, Castiel quit talking completely and just sat there stiffly, doodling on a napkin and nursing a beer. Finally, Dean reached under the table to try to hold his hand, desperate to make some kind of contact, but he swiped it away. Dean was about to ask him to come outside with him and talk for a minute, but Charlie beat him to it.

"Cas, is something bothering you? You seem like you're not having fun anymore." Charlie said.

"Dean is what's bothering me." Castiel snapped. "Dean and his fucking hypocrisy and teasing."

Dean just blinked. Jo stared at him, clearly still wondering what had happened while she and Charlie were on the dance floor.

"Dude, cool down." Dean said soothingly. "We can talk about this when you've sobered up a bit."

"Did you know that schizophrenia runs in families? Dean, was your father schizophrenic?" Castiel said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Cas…" Jo said. "Cas, come on. Let's not talk about this here."

Charlie looked concerned, but confused. Dean thanked her silently when she didn't say anything.

"Did you know that people with schizophrenia _never_ recover? It's the AIDS of mental illness. You're basically fucked if you receive that diagnosis." Cas hissed, his voice low and mean. "It's a death sentence." He smiled at Dean and his smile was cold, almost evil.

Dean was blinded with rage and hurt when he said that. He wanted to pummel Castiel, all of the lovey-dovey feelings that he had earlier in the night suddenly draining away. He didn't do anything though. He just sat there.

"Castiel, come on, man. Let's cool it. Let's take a walk. You and me." Jo said, standing up and tugging at his sleeve.

Castiel shoved her, sending Jo toppling to the ground. "Get off me, you fucking dyke!" He growled. "I'm out of here."

"Jo!" Charlie cried, leaping up to help her.

Castiel grabbed his trench coat and stalked out, not looking back once. Dean watched him go. He knew that if he went after him, there was a good chance he'd kill him for what he said about Sam and for shoving Jo. He didn't help Jo though. He just sat there, numb, the world a blur in front of him.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Dean didn't answer his phone. Every time it vibrated, it was Castiel and from 7am on, Castiel called him 15 times and texted him at least 30 times. Each text message was some form of apology, laced with excuses about how he "sometimes was an angry drunk" or how he "never should drink liquor." He asked if Jo was okay every other text and asked if they hated him every fourth text.

Dean listened to his phone vibrate every 15 minutes and didn't respond because everything was an excuse. He was still livid and also not-so-secretly heartbroken. Dean didn't want to hear Castiel's mewling, crying voice because he wasn't ready to forgive him and he knew that voice would make him do so.

Around 3pm, Jo came to his apartment with the key she had made for herself. Dean was still in bed, the curtains drawn to prevent any sun from streaming in.

"Dean. Come on. You need to get out of bed." She said from the foot of his bed.

"I am not ready to get out of bed, dear Jo." He said, voice muffled by his pillow. "The man I thought I was falling in love with abused you."

"Dean, I am fine. I told you that at least 100 times last time. I can hold my own, especially against a drunken fairy Castiel's size. Don't be such a drama queen. You're not still in bed because you're concerned about my physical well-being." She said.

"Go away." He moaned.

"Dean, seriously, this is pathetic. You need to get up. You are not going to lie here all day and night and dwell on what happened last night. You have a genetics midterm on Monday and Charlie is worried about you. Most of all, I am fucking sick of your boyfriend calling me every five minutes." She said.

Jo bent over and ripped the blankets off him. Dean made a huge show of shivering, even though it wasn't that cold in his room. She bent over so she was looking directly at him.

"He's calling you?" He muttered.

"Yes, and he's calling Charlie too. We both have spoken to him. He was crying and bitching and we both said we were okay with him just to shut him up. Which, don't get me wrong, we're _pissed,_ but it happens. I'm mostly surprised that he didn't send me flowers or buy me a car, with how apologetic he is." She said.

"I hate him." Dean said unconvincingly.

Jo just smirked.

"He can't stand it when people he likes are mad at him. He literally can't stand it. He goes catatonic. It's this whole fucked up thing." Dean added. "I'm surprised he was able to talk to you at all without dying on the spot."

"The fact that you _know that_ is just another reason why you need to get out of your damn bed and _fix this._ " Jo said.

"It's not mine to fix." Dean said sorrowfully. He felt so pathetic right now. He just wanted Jo to order him Chinese so they could lie in bed and watch Dr. Sexy MD.

Jo bent over and flicked him in the nose, hard. "I know it's not, you dumbass, but like it or not, this falls on you. You chose the crazy guy with attachment issues and what I think may be possible anger management issues, so it's on you, like it or not."

Dean groaned and sat up. "I hate you too." He said sorrowfully.

"Shut up and get dressed." She said, still smirking at him.

After a hot shower and sandwiches made by Jo, because she actually felt sorry for him and was the best friend ever, Dean texted Castiel and told him he was coming over. The response Dean received simply read _Thank you._

Dean took a deep breath and reached over and knocked on Castiel's door. He heard some rustling and Castiel was there immediately.

One look at him and Dean knew that over the past 12 hours, Castiel had punished himself more than Dean, Charlie, or Jo ever could. His face was pale and his eyes were red and puffy. He was wearing the same clothes from the night before and he still reeked of tequila. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw that Castiel's living room was trashed. What disturbed Dean most was that his paintings were no longer on the wall.

"Cas." He said quietly. He stepped into the apartment and immediately wrapped Castiel in his arms.

Dean immediately forgave him.

Castiel melted into him, sniffling, not saying anything. Dean looked around the apartment to survey the damage. Sometime during the night, Castiel had ripped all of his movie posters off the wall and they were lying in shreds on the floor. There were clothes and shoes everywhere, as if he had pulled them from his closet and thrown them everywhere. There was a DVD player on the floor, the plastic cracked. Dean glanced into the kitchen. There was glass everywhere, broken plates and glasses, and the refrigerator hung open and the microwave was askew. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the counter, the only glass item still intact, and Dean wasn't sure if Castiel had poured it out or drunk it. Dean was willing to bet it was the latter.

"I'm sorry." Castiel whimpered. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean anything I said last night. Please don't hate me, Dean. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, Cas, it's okay. I forgive you. Come here. You are just fine. It's okay." He whispered, laying a soft kiss on his hairline.

Dean walked Cas to the bathroom and wordlessly undressed him and put him in the shower. He let Castiel wash himself, because although something in him had obviously broken last night, he was not an invalid. Dean shut the door and began cleaning up the mess in the apartment. He threw away the posters and cleaned up the glass, actually surprised Castiel had managed not to cut himself during his frenzy of destroying everything.

Dean went into the bedroom because he hadn't seen what had happened in there yet and he wasn't sure he wanted to see it. Just like the rest of the apartment, it was a mess. The bed was stripped bare and there were sheets and clothes everywhere. Dean opened the closet and found Castiel's paintings. He had taken a knife to them and shredded the canvas. Just like everything else in Castiel's apartment, they were destroyed.

Dean sighed and shut the closet door. He sat on the bed and blinked back tears.

"God fucking damnit, Cas." He whispered to himself. "Why do you hate yourself so much?"

The paintings had been so striking, obviously created with such passion and talent. Dean hadn't understood them, but he had loved them.

He heard the shower turn off and Dean shook himself off. He had dug through the clothes and found something clean. Castiel emerged from the bathroom shivering and wrapped in a towel. Dean silently handed him the clothes and looked away while he changed.

Castiel stood there, staring at his feet, looking completely ashamed.

Finally he said something. "You cleaned." He whispered.

"Yeah, Cas, I cleaned."

"Thanks, I guess. I should have been the one…" He started

Dean interrupted him. "Let's get out of here."

They walked out to the street, where Dean had parked the Impala.

"That's your car? It's beautiful." Castiel said softly.

"She's my baby." Dean said fondly, patting the hood.

They got into the car and drove. Dean put on some Zeppelin and they didn't talk. Castiel looked out the window, looking pensive, but less broken than he had when Dean had arrived at his apartment. They drove out past some cornfields and finally, Dean pulled into a park on the side of the road.

"I've never been here." Castiel said.

"This is my favorite spot in the area. It's just a little place, but if you walk up this hill, there's this huge fucking rock you can sit on, and you can actually see the ocean in the distance."

They hiked up the hill and Dean tried not to notice how hard Castiel was breathing. Dean tried not to think about how the huffs and puffs coming from his mouth reminded him of sex.

Finally, they got to Dean's rock. Dean climbed up, helping Castiel scrabble up behind him.

"See it?" He asked, pointing at the ocean.

Castiel nodded, but didn't say anything.

"So, Cas. I think we need to talk about what happened last night… and not just at the bar, but what happened at your apartment afterward." Dean said slowly.

"I can't." Castiel whimpered. "I don't want to discuss it with you, Dean."

"Cas, look, I told you about Sam. That is the most personal shit in my life. Literally no one knows about it except for my family and Jo. You owe me. Please, try to trust me with your personal shit too. You don't need to tell me all about your dark past, but I think I need to know what caused you to behave that way, so we can work with it." He said.

"You should just leave me." Castiel mumbled. "I'm no good to anyone."

Dean cringed and he wanted to run, tell Cas that it was over, but instead he just lazily draped his arm around Castiel's shoulders. He felt so small to Dean right now. He bent over and placed a small kiss on the top of Castiel's head, which smelled like salt and some kind of minty shampoo.

"Not gonna happen, Cas. I'm not leaving you, no matter how much you try to force me away. So come on, work with me."

Castiel relaxed against him. "Dean, I told you, I'm a freak."

Dean chuckled. "And I've told you, probably a thousand times now, you're not a freak. Believe me, I know freaks."

"My life… well, it has not been easy. Remember I said a lot of terrible things happened to me when I was a kid? Well, they did, and these things have stuck with me. They've fucked me up." Castiel said thickly, his voice on the verge of breaking.

"You don't need to tell me all about it. Just tell me why you were so upset last night." Dean said. "Cas, it was as if you were a different person. What happened? What did I do?"

"You wouldn't fuck me." He whispered. "I didn't think you wanted me anymore."

"Cas, I told you that I want you. I care about you. I'd love nothing more than to be with you, in every sense of the word. Why don't you believe me? Why did that make you so angry?"

"I just… I can't handle it. Rejection. It makes me feel like dying." Castiel murmured.

"But Cas, I wasn't rejecting you."

"Yes you were. That's what it felt like. I just wanted to make you happy and you wouldn't let me."

"You do make me happy. Come on, you know that."

"It didn't feel like that way last night. If you don't want to be with me physically, then why are you bothering at all?"

"There is more to you than that, Cas. I told you that the other night. I don't spend time with you just because I want to fuck you.I spend time with you because I care about you and I trust you." Dean said, trying to pull him even closer, just to show him that he was there, in every sense of the word, and that he wasn't going to leave him.

"You shouldn't be with someone like me. Bad things were done to me, and I've done bad things. You saw it, last night, I almost hurt Jo!" He said, his voice choked.

"Jo is fine. She is actually the one who got me to come over to your apartment. Jo loves you and so does Charlie. They're your friends, Cas. I care about you. That's why I'm here. I can't lose you, I just found you." Dean said, nuzzle

"Everyone leaves me. They use me up and they leave. So, I might as well give them what they need while they're around."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise you. Why do you think I'm going to leave you once we have sex? Why do you think that's all you mean to me? Cas, that's not the case at all, baby, come on. Don't be ridiculous. What happened to you?" Dean said desperately.

"You don't want to know. You shouldn't be with someone like me. I'm damaged goods."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? Come on, we can fix this. I _want_ to fix it. Just tell me why, so I can start."

Castiel sat there for a moment, silent. They watched the ocean, so far away, but still almost close enough to touch. Dean was trying so hard to be there for him, trying so hard to understand why Castiel was clinging so tightly to him, while also pushing him away. Dean wanted to run toward the ocean, dive into the waves, which would cleanse him of Sam's disease, Castiel's pain, and his own constant need to escape.

"When I was 12, I ran away." Castiel said finally.. "I ran away from my foster home. I was living on the streets, Dean. You have to understand that. I had no other choice. I shouldn't have run away."

"Cas, you were 12. You were a kid." Dean said.

"It was the third one in less than a year. You don't know what that's like. They kept moving me because the foster parents didn't like me, or they had too many kids already, or because I didn't fit in at school. They kept moving me. I just wanted to be done with it."

"Oh, Cas." Dean whispered.

"I didn't last long, obviously. It was a little over a week before I got picked up by this guy. He called himself Bruno. He was a monster, but he took me in. I had a warm bed. I had food. There were others like me, mostly young girls. Bruno's rule was that we had to earn our keep. The first time he sent me out, he told me I had to prove my worth. This is when he started giving me heroin. He gave us all heroin." Castiel said, his voice finally breaking.

Dean didn't want to hear the rest, because he knew what was coming, but Castiel kept talking.

 _I asked him to relive this. This is what I wanted to know._ Dean thought, biting his lip hard. In the distance the ocean roar and Dean wanted to be a thousand miles from where he was right now.

"He would shoot us up and make us work. I was the youngest of Bruno's kids, so the worst ones got me. The younger they liked us, the worse the experience was. They did awful things. I did terrible things. I was always high though, so it didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter if I was high. One time though, he didn't shoot me up and I knew what was happening. It finally hit me… what I was doing. So, I bit the guy. I fucking tore a chunk out of where it really counts." Castiel said, getting more of his ghastly story out in one rushed, broken breath.

"Oh my God, Cas." Dean whispered. He wrapped his arms around him and held the smaller man close. "God, Cas, baby, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry that happened to you."

His words meant nothing, because Castiel kept going.

"Bruno nearly killed me. He broke my elbow and kicked me so hard there was internal bleeding. He dumped me at a hospital. I stayed there for a long time, to detox obviously, and to make sure I hadn't caught anything. I was clean, but I was only with him for a month. I was lucky compared to some of the others." Castiel finished.

When the story was finally, thankfully over, Castiel's walls came down. He began to sob, hot tears running down his face, breath coming out in short gasps. He was practically hyperventilating and Dean had never witnessed this outpouring of emotion from anyone. Dean held him close to keep him from spinning away and losing himself completely.

Dean understood Castiel's reaction toward sex now. In Castiel's mind, sex was connected to survival, which was connected to hate, pain and loss. To survive, to remain in his "home," he'd been forced to do unimaginable things to sate the cruel and sick needs of others. He had endured the kind of torture that usually only frequent peoples' worst nightmares. Dean literally felt ill from just hearing the story. He couldn't imagine what it took for Castiel to simply with this memory from day to day. He had always suspected some kind of abuse, but he had never pictured it being so brutal. Dean felt such rage at the monster that had done this to Castiel, such anger at the men who had taken Castiel's innocence and childhood.

After about 15 minutes, Castiel had calmed down enough to talk.

"Dean?" He whispered.

"Castiel. Baby. You don't need to tell me anymore." He replied, kissing him softly on the cheek, half expecting Castiel to push him away.

"Since then, it's been a battle just to get through each day. All I can think about sometimes is what I can do to please. You can't please everyone though, and I've realized that it's easier to withdraw. I can't… I can't let people in. When I do, I can't handle it. I revert. I always fucking revert." He whispered.

"You don't need to explain it." Dean said, rubbing careful circles in Castiel's tense back.

Castiel nodded and smiled feebly. "Does it make sense now?"

"I think I get it." He said.

Dean understood everything now. Except now that he did, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue with what he had started with Castiel. It was just like his feelings about Sam, but they were happening with someone else. Dean stared at the ocean, longing for it, but he remained tethered to the rock, to the man sitting next to him.


	8. Chapter 8

Some time passed and amazingly, things got somewhat back to normal. Dean received A's and B's on all his midterms, including a B- on his social theory midterm. He hadn't bothered to ask Castiel for tutoring in awhile. He didn't need it, or maybe he didn't want to ask Castiel for help on anything anymore. Castiel came to lunch with him, Charlie, and Jo the Wednesday after his episode at the bar and Jo and Charlie were fantastic, talking to Castiel like nothing had happened, being super nice and encouraging, even teasing the two of them a little bit about how they held hands under the table. Dean was grateful to his friends, who knew without asking not to begrudge Castiel about what happened at the bar. Dean simply told Jo that the liquor had ignited some post-traumatic stress issues that night.

Despite the hand-holding, after the day in the park, the physical element of their emerging relationship came to almost a grinding halt. Dean didn't touch Castiel too much out of fear of triggering some sort of negative reaction in him. Dean knew innately that this is exactly what Castiel expected to happen, because he didn't push it. He let Dean initiate everything and he didn't react with too much enthusiasm, even though Dean saw the discreet boners and heard his breathy little sighs every time they kissed.

It was another Friday, and the two of them were sitting in Castiel's apartment, which Castiel had cleaned impeccably sometime while Dean wasn't around. The walls were still bare, but Castiel had purchased a new DVD player, new dishes and Dean never said a word to him about the paintings. He did notice that Castiel had set up an easel in the corner and was working on something new, but this time he was working with charcoal and pencils. Dean asked him about it a few times, but Castiel just said "he wasn't sure what it was going to become." Dean figured that was good enough for him. He just hoped Castiel wouldn't end up shredding that piece of work too.

"I love Halloween." Castiel said, watching Michael Myers stab a woman around their age in the heart.

Dean cringed a little bit. These days, he hated Halloween. Right now it was October 30 and Sam was 2000 miles away, about to turn 22. Although Dean hadn't been there, he knew that Sam had spent his last birthday locked in a room in a mental hospital. Dean was calling him regularly again, even though it killed him every time. He spoke to his mother too, who insisted that Sam was doing as well as he could. She also insisted that Dean come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. He couldn't give her an answer.

Michael Myers dragged the woman by her hair down a flight of stairs, while she screamed in a fake, exaggerated way.

"She sucks." Dean said, taking a swig of his beer. "I mean, seriously, she was just stabbed in the heart and now she's being dragged the stairs to a certain death. You'd think she'd have more terror on her face."

Dean lazily draped his arm around Castiel's shoulder. He felt Castiel tense up a little bit, and then snuggle up against him. Dean smiled silently. These were the moments he lived for right now, these small moments, when it was just the two of them and he could tell Castiel's mind was quiet.

Michael Myers slit the woman's throat and she died horribly. Or at least that is what they wanted you to think.

"At least they ended her suffering." Cas commented. "You know, they always kill the worst actresses the quickest."

Dean snorted. "Go figure. You know, Sammy loves these damn movies as much as you do. We used to watch them religiously around this time of year. Personally, I prefer the Jason movies."

"Jason Voorhees is a deaf mute with mommy issues." Castiel said, wrinkling his nose.

"So? Michael Myers is a deaf mute with babysitter issues. Same thing, you know. At least Jason got to go to frickin' space. Now that is bad ass." Dean said, grinning. He leaned forward and set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table.

"Jason X is the worst movie ever." Castiel cried. "You can't call going to space in that steaming pile of crap 'bad ass.' That movie's utter existence is a slap in the face to every _good_ Jason movie in the series. Now, you want camp? Freddy versus Jason. I actually got a kick out of that one."

Dean laughed. "You're defending Freddy versus Jason, yet you insult Jason X? Cas, baby, they're on the exact same level! Made for the same reasons."

Castiel just shook his head. "Do not argue horror trivia or the merits of these films with me, Winchester. I will win every time. I suggest you give up now. "

Dean just laughed and reached down and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Fine. You win." He murmured.

Castiel reached up and planted a kiss on his mouth. Dean kissed him back as chastely as he could, even though the room was dark, the other man was warm and relaxed against him and Dean couldn't help but notice how Castiel looked , how he smelled, and how badly all of these things were making him want to touch him all over.

Cas shimmied up and wrapped both his arms around Dean's neck and kissed him again, this time deeper and with more need. Dean pulled him close and kissed him back, telling himself that it would be okay if he touched him, that he wouldn't break from a couple of kisses. He felt Castiel's tongue slip into his mouth and Dean twined his fingers around the back of his neck, raking his fingers through his hair. The two of them sat there, making out like teenagers in a movie theater, and before he knew it, they were horizontal on the couch, Dean's body flush against Castiel's, who felt so diminutive, yet also so solid, beneath him. They grinded against each other, kissing deeply, hands everywhere, in places they had never been before. Castiel was making those low, breathy moans and god, Dean wanted him so fucking badly right now that he knew he was going to have trouble stopping himself.

"Dean." He breathed. "Please."

"Cas. Oh God, Cas, I want you so much. You have no fucking idea how badly I want you." He groaned, kissing his throat, his mouth, the top of his shoulder, unable to detach his mouth from any part of Castiel and make the _right decision._

"Please. I want you too. I'm not going to break. I swear, I won't break. I just… god, I need you." Castiel whimpered, his breath hot in Dean's ear.

"Cas… I don't know…" Dean breathed. Cas interrupted him by kissing him again, moving against him in a way that was unbelievably tantalizing.

"Dean. I know you want to. You've been so good, so careful. I know you're not going to hurt me. Please." He whispered, his face so close that Dean felt those long eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

"Goddamnit, Cas." He groaned, kissing him again.

"What do you say we take this show somewhere more comfortable?" Cas muttered, toying with Dean's belt, and then taking it off.

It didn't take much more than that to convince him. They were off the couch and in Castiel's bed in seconds. Dean was surprised at how completely natural it felt and how all of his reservations melted away as soon as they began to fuck _,_ make love, or whatever phrase you used to describe the best and most fulfilling sex of your life. Castiel was loud, screaming the words "fuck" and "please" over and over again and Dean was pleased to discover that Castiel was quite adept with his mouth and plenty flexible, just as he had imagined during his masturbatory alone time. They crashed and moved against each other like waves, and when it was over, Castiel was still intact.

Afterward, they lay in bed naked, snuggling, and Dean was sure in this moment that he had become a woman.

"That was exactly what I needed." Castiel murmured. "God, these last two weeks have been torture."

Dean chuckled. They had been for him too.

"You need to quit trying to be so good around me." Castiel added. "Dean, I told you, I won't break."

Dean leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "I think I can manage that from now on, Cas."

"What do you want to do tomorrow? Since it's a Saturday and everything, I figured we could go out. Charlie mentioned that her band's playing a show in Portland. There could even be costumes?" He said hopefully.

"Oooh. Costumes? You tease. You really like Halloween, don't you?" Dean said with a laugh.

"It's my favorite holiday." Castiel admitted. "I love pretending I'm someone else for a night. I don't know, it's fun."

"You don't need to pretend to be anyone but Cas in a French maid uniform or something. You are perfect just the way you are."

"French maid costume? Oh Dean, that's disgusting! What, have you watched every cliché porno ever made?" Castiel said, actually grimacing.

Dean laughed again. "You sounded just like Jo there. Keep that up and we'll never do this again."

Castiel actually laughed at the jab, which made Dean feel better than he could possibly describe.

"I have something I need to do in the morning. Maybe you could come with me after we wake up? Then we can pick out some last minute costumes." Dean murmured.

"Are you actually going to spend the night?" Castiel asked, sounding a little shocked.

"I think so, yeah, if that's okay with you." Dean said. He'd been planning on it, anyway. Sex like that always made him want to pass out. He supposed he was still a typical dude in that way.

"I'd love that." Castiel said. "Oh God, I'd love that. Whatever you want to do tomorrow, I'm game."

"Actually, anything you want to do, _I'm_ game. Even if there aren't French maid costumes involved." He said.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Dean awoke early, not exactly sure where he was. Then he rolled on his side to check the time and saw Castiel.

It was 8:00am and for Dean, that was early, especially considering it was a Saturday. Dean stared at Castiel, realizing they had never fallen asleep and woken up together until now. It was these details that defined relationships and these details made him feel like he and Castiel could move forward, despite all of the obstacles.

Castiel slept with his knees curled up to his chest, in almost a fetal position, spooning a pillow. Dean chuckled, because that was exactly how thought Castiel would sleep. It was strange, but it made sense. His brow was even furrowed in his sleep, something that only someone as tightly wound Castiel was would do. He chuckled and bent over and kissed him on the forehead.

Dean ambled out to the kitchen and made himself a pot of coffee and pulled out his laptop to catch up on football scores and maybe less important things, like the news. Castiel padded out of his room an hour later, looking absolutely miserable.

When he saw Dean, his eyes lit up and a huge smile crossed his face.

"You're still here?" He asked.

Dean stared at him. "Yeah, I'm still here. Where else would I be?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel just shook his head. "When I woke up, you were gone, I just thought…"

"I just woke up before you, Cas. Chill. Also, I made you some breakfast. It wasn't much, since all you have in your fridge is fruit, yogurt, and granola. Despite the challenges that presented, I whipped something up for you." Dean motioned to the fridge, his eyes not leaving his laptop screen. He really needed to start making time for his beloved 49ers again.

"You made me breakfast?" Castiel said, his voice rising. Once again, he was in disbelief.

"Well, I didn't cook. I just threw a bunch of shit in a bowel and mixed it together. Don't be too gracious." Dean said. "There's fresh coffee too." He added.

Castiel came into the tiny kitchen and pulled the bowl of yogurt and granola from the fridge. He poured himself some coffee, and then just stood there for a minute looking emotional.

"Cas, what is it?" Dean said, shutting his laptop.

"It's just… well, it's just this. No one has ever stayed the night and made me breakfast before." Castiel whispered, his lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over.

"Oh, Cas. Don't… don't cry. Don't cry again" Dean said. He couldn't stand that right now.

"It's not _bad_ crying." He said, wiping his eyes. He smiled feebly.

Dean stood up and took the bowl of yogurt from him and set it on the table. He gave Castiel a little hug.

"I love making breakfast for you, Cas. You don't need to be so surprised. These are the little things people do for each other, you know?" He murmured, rocking him a little bit.

In Dean's mind, Castiel's reaction was ludicrous. He never imagined that he could make someone weep just by making them breakfast and coffee. He didn't say it out loud, but it made him like Castiel more.

"I just… well, thanks. Thank you for staying and doing it. You might think it's a little thing, but it's not. To me, it's a great big thing. So thank you." Castiel said.

"You're welcome. Now eat you breakfast. You're already too damn skinny."

Castiel laughed a little and sat down. Dean slid him the newspaper and reopened his laptop. They sat there in comfortable silence for awhile, reading the news, drinking coffee and eating breakfast. Castiel disappeared for awhile, showering and getting ready. Dean thought to himself about how domestic the entire scene was, and he didn't mind it at all.

He came back out and sat down at the table. "So, last night you said there was something you needed to do this morning?"

Dean smiled softly. "Yeah, it is Sam's birthday today, you know. He's turning 22."

Castiel nodded. "Okay, well, are you going home?"

Dean chuckled. "No, Cas. I'm not going home. Home is 2000 miles away and I haven't been there in two years. I'd never make it in time for Sam's birthday. I just thought I could get him a present this year, you know? I know it's shitty that I waited until his birthday to do this, but I don't know… I talked to my mom yesterday and she made me think that I should at least send him something little."

"How often do you talk to Sam these days?"

"Well, more than I used to. Maybe once or twice a week. Mom said that they just got a new laptop, so I was thinking I could maybe 'Skype' him today, or whatever you call it. It'd be nice to see his face, you know? It's been so long."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Castiel asked slowly "I mean, I don't know him, but maybe I could help you pick something out?"

"I'd like that."

They drove into the main part of town, where there were actually some decent shops, despite Plainville's small size. Dean didn't admit this to Castiel, but he had no idea what to get Sam for his birthday. That was one reason he had asked him to join. Castiel and Sam actually had a lot in common, and Dean wasn't referring to their collective batch of mental problems. Dean thought they were both weird and wonderful, and he was sure he'd think that even if Sam wasn't schizophrenic and Castiel didn't have enough baggage to bring down an airplane.

"What is Sam like?" Castiel asked. as Dean parked the Impala.

"Sam, well, Sam is fucking crazy, Cas." Dean said gravely, shaking his head. "Dude thinks that demons talk to him."

"That's not what I mean." Castiel said impatiently. "I mean, what does he like to do? What's his personality like? What was he like before he got sick?"

"Sam is an oaf." Dean said simply. "He's 6'4", with the grace of a moose. Everyone always thought he'd play basketball because he's so fucking tall, but he couldn't. Nope. Sam can't run to save his life because he always trips and loses a shoe or a sock. He swam in high school. He was fucking good at it too. He was varsity captain his junior and senior year."

"And?"

"Sammy is smart. Much smarter than me. Hell, he's probably as smart as you. Unlike me, his brains aren't limited to one area. He's good at everything. He can tell you about the GDP in some random country one moment, master calculus the next, and then he'll write a poem that'll make you whimper like a baby."

"So he likes to write? And he's well rounded? Athletic _and_ smart?" Castiel emphasized the second part, actually sounding a little eager.

"Don't get too excited about him, Cas. Like I said, he's fruit loops. Plus he likes girls." Dean said, jabbing him in the ribs. "Oh man, Sammy might be well rounded, but he failed with chicks. Don't get me wrong, a lot of girls wanted to date him, 'cuz like you said, he's 'well rounded,' but he didn't know how their minds worked and couldn't talk to them without stuttering like a damn fool."

"So he is bad with women?"

"He gave his first serious girlfriend an aquarium for Valentine's Day. She cried for hours." Dean said, smiling fondly at the memory.

"But who would be upset by that? I would love to receive an aquarium, especially if it came already outfitted with fish." Castiel said, looking genuinely confused.

Dean burst out laughing and bent down and kissed him quickly on the lips. "You would like an aquarium, wouldn't you? So would Sam. I knew you two had stuff in common."

"He likes horror movies? The Halloween ones?" Castiel said.

"Unfortunately. He's also a huge fan of John Hughes movies. I swear, sometimes I think he has a vagina."

"What's wrong with John Hughes?" Castiel demanded.

"What, Cas, do you fancy yourself a Molly Ringwald?" Dean teased.

Castiel seemed to absorb Dean's description of Sam like a sponge and after that it was easier for them to find something befitting of Sam's personality. In the end, Dean ended up purchasing Sam a bundle of the first thee Halloween movies, a leather notebook that was purchased from the same place where Castiel got his sketchbooks, and a cheesy souvenir snow globe that advertised Portland. Back at Castiel's apartment, Dean realized he had forgotten to buy him a card.

"Shit. I forgot a card. I guess I can go back into town." Dean said. "Ugh, I'm a moron."

Castiel cleared his throat. "I know this might sound a little ridiculous, but maybe I could draw him something? Something small, light-hearted, like a cartoon that reminds you of him? That way it'd be personalized." Castiel looked embarrassed at his suggestion.

"Why do you look so embarrassed? That's a great idea." Dean said.

"I just don't want to overstep my bounds."

Dean just rolled his eyes. "You are such a weirdo, Cas. Offering to draw something goofy for my brother is not overstepping your bounds. What do you think would be good?"

"I have no idea, Dean. He's your brother."

"A moose." Dean said suddenly. "A moose swimming in a pool."

He had almost always pictured Sam _exactly_ like that whenever he was forced to attend his brother's swim meets. It was easier than seeing his brother in a speedo.

Castiel just looked confused again and then started laughing. "Because he's awkward like a moose and a moose swimming is hilarious to you?"

"Yes. Make sure to put a speedo and swimcap on the moose. Just because I used to always give Sam hell for wearing that shit. He'd get a kick out of it."

Ten minutes later, Dean had Sam's card. Castiel drew a Chibi version of a moose struggling to swim through a kiddy pool, reaching for a birthday cake topped with a "22" candle at the end of the pool. Dean wrote Sam a note on the inside and they wrapped up the package.

"Cas, could you do me one more favor?" Dean asked.

"Of course." Castiel said automatically.

"So, to top off my 'celebration' of Sam's birthday, I figured I'd try to 'Skype' with him, you know? Would you like to meet him?" Dean asked. "If that makes you uncomfortable, I can go into your bedroom."

Castiel looked terrified, which was commonplace for him about 80% of the time. "Are you sure?"

"Why not? I mean, I'm in your house, you helped me with Sam's birthday package, and I've certainly mentioned you enough times. Might as well. It's just a webcam chat. You're not asking them for my hand in marriage."

Castiel's face turned bright red. "Um. Okay."

Dean called his mother to assure that Sam was up for it and to go through instructions about how to chat on Skype and 10 minutes later, Dean saw his mother's face up close and almost in person for the first time in 2 years.

Mary Winchester looked the same as Dean remembered, but older and more tired since she had started caring for Sam mostly on her own. Her face was bare of makeup and there were wrinkles around her eyes that Dean didn't remember being there the last time he saw her. Her blond hair was streaked with grey and cut into a sensible bob-style, something that was totally new for Dean. As soon as Dean saw this face pop up on the screen, he felt his throat close up. He reached for Castiel, who was standing out of the view of the camera. Castiel grabbed his hand and Dean squeezed tight.

"Mom." He choked.

"Dean!" She cried, an enormous smile lighting up her face. "Oh, honey, you look so good! How are you?"

"I'm great, mom. How are you?"

"We are doing really well! Oh, I feel like it's been so long since I've seen that face. I miss you so much, honey."

"I miss you guys too. How's Sam doing?"

"He's doing great today. The Singers are taking him out for lunch today. Ash is so excited. He even came back from college for the weekend for it!"

Dean swallowed. Ash had come home, but he hadn't.

"Has dad…?"

His mom just shook her head, looking grave. "And thank God for that. You know what happened last year when he came home…"

Last year, John Winchester had reappeared after weeks missing for Sam's 21st birthday. He had been drunk and had tried to take Sam out for his "first legal beer" even though Sam was expressly forbidden to consume alcohol because of his medication. The night had ended with Sam in the hospital for yet another 72-hour hold.

"Yeah, it's probably for the best. Have you heard from him?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Not in a few weeks. Have you?"

Dean shook his head too. He hadn't spoken to his father in 8 months.

"Oh, well. For the best, like I said…" She said, her voice trailing off. She shook her head. "Let me get your brother."

When his mother left to go find Sam, Dean let out a strangled breath that he had been holding in.

"Oh God." He muttered to Cas. "This is horrible."

Castiel squeezed his hand again. "Do you want me to…?"

"No, absolutely not. You are staying right here." Dean said.

A minute later, Dean heard some rustling, and Sam's face appeared on the screen. Dean almost passed out when he saw him. Sure, he had pictures from the last two years, but it didn't compare to seeing Sam's face live and in motion. Seeing his face, Dean immediately got the urge to buy a plane ticket and fly home to Kansas, just so he could see that face in person. Just like his mom, Sam looked the same, but the subtle differences stood out. His hair was long, too long in Dean's opinion, and he had gained a noticeable amount of weight. His face bore stubble and the tired eyes of someone who had seen too much during a short life.

"Dean!" Sam cried. "Oh man, it is good to see you. What's up, man?"

"Sammy." Dean said quietly. "Happy birthday, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean! It is so good to see you, even if it's just over a webcam. I don't know why we haven't done this before."

"How are things, Sammy?"

A smile bloomed on Sam's face. "I'm doing really good, Dean. Things have been really great for the last 4 months. I love school. Today I get to see Ash, Bobby and Ellen. Now I get to see you."

"Things are quiet up here?" Dean asked, tapping the side of his head.

Sam got serious. "Yeah, things have been quiet for awhile now. I haven't been seeing things, haven't even been hearing too much."

Dean nodded. "Good. That's what I like to hear, little brother."

"How are you, though? I know we just talked, but wow, Dean, it's so strange to see your face. You look good, man. How were midterms?"

"Midterms are good. They're over, thank God."

"Are you coming home for Christmas? I know it's far and you work during the break, but it'd be really good to see you."

Sam asked him that every time they talked. This time, Dean couldn't make up an excuse for why he hadn't make it back, mostly because of the hopeful look on his brother's face. Dean couldn't believe it had been two years since he'd seen it in person.

"Yeah, Sammy. I think I can make it back this year." Dean said, nodding.

"Awesome!"

Cas slipped away, to give Dean time to talk to his family. When Dean told his mother he was coming home, she actually started crying. A few anecdotes were exchanged about Sam's past birthdays and Dean updated them on what Jo was doing. Overall, although it was strange to talk to them this way at first, it became easier quickly. About twenty minutes into the conversation, he saw Castiel crossing the living room, arms filled with charcoal pencils. Dean motioned to him.

"Hey guys, there's someone I'd like you to meet, if that's cool."

"Is it that dude you always talk about?" Sam said sarcastically. "The one whose name you've mentioned 5 times in the last 20 minutes?"

Dean felt his face heat up, even though Sam was 2000 miles away and probably couldn't catch the scarlet on his face over the webcam.

"Uh. Yeah." He said.

Castiel set the art supplies on the table next to his easel and came over to where Dean was sitting. Dean grabbed the chair to the left of him and slid it over. He glanced up at him. Unsurprisingly, Cas looked like he was about to puke.

"Cas, buddy, it's cool. They aren't going to bite." He said, smiling at him.

Castiel sat down in the chair, body stiff. He cleared his throat and gave the Winchesters an uneasy smile.

"Sammy, mom, this is my friend, Cas." Dean said.

"Hi, Cas!" Sam said, waving at him. He put a lot of extra effort into it and Dean knew he was doing it on purpose.

"Hello there." Castiel said, his voice more gravelly than usual. "It's Castiel, actually. So nice to, um, meet you."

"Dean tells me you're the one who convinced him to start calling us on a regular basis again?" Mary Winchester said.

"Um. Yes." Castiel said, fiddling with his collar. "I guess you could put it that way."

"Castiel, you don't have to be so nervous. Dean has already told us all about you, whether he wants to admit it or not. Relax, you're among friends." Sam interjected.

Castiel looked shocked. Dean burst out laughing. Sam might not be the same person he was before the disease, but he still spoke plainly and could read people.

"Well, Castiel, thank you for convincing our Dean not to be so stoic." Mary said, smiling warmly at him.

"You're… you're welcome?" Castiel said.

Dean reached under the table and squeezed his hand. "Cas here is the reason I'm not failing political science right now." He said. "He's a close friend too. I just wanted you guys to say 'hey' to him."

"A _close_ friend?" Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Sammy. A _close_ friend." He said, giving him a look of warning that Sam was able to read, even over a webcam.

They talked for another 10 minutes, and then Sam had to leave to meet up with the Singers. Mary made him promise to "Skype" with them again on Sunday, so they could make plans for Dean's now-decided trip home. Dean closed the laptop and sighed.

"That wasn't so bad, actually. Much better than talking on the phone." He said to Castiel.

"Your brother seems like he's doing remarkably well." Castiel observed. "I couldn't see it, you know."

"Yeah, when he's lucid… well, he's almost like he's the same as he was. He's not as sharp as he used to be, you know, but he's still got it. He caught your awkwardness immediately."

"That's not exactly difficult for people to see, Dean." Castiel said, raising an eyebrow at him and smiling.

"He talks slower though. You could see him drifting just a little bit. Most people wouldn't notice these things, but I did. I don't know, Cas. It's fucking heartbreaking."

"Yes, but he's there. It's him and he was only seeing us, only hearing us. It was evident his reality was fully intact." Castiel said. "I know that I didn't know Sam before, nor do I know him now, but I have been around people like him before."

"When have you…? Were some of your foster brothers and sisters schizophrenic?" Dean asked, knowing immediately it was a stupid question, sure the confusion was etched on _his_ face now.

Castiel chuckled. "Believe it or not, I've spent some time in the psychiatric ward."

"Oh." Dean said. That hadn't exactly sunk in, even though Castiel had referenced it in past conversations.

"I was younger, of course. I was 12 the first time… after…" Castiel shook his head. "I was in and out of state-mandated therapy for awhile, and then a couple of years ago, while I was getting my master's, well, let's just say I had a bad period. I was in and out a few times that year. That's when I saw people like Sam."

When he said that, Castiel's eyes were far away, back to a time when Dean hadn't known him and things had been much worse.

"I'm much better now." Castiel said finally.

"Do you… have to take anything?" Dean asked. He'd been wondering if Castiel was in any kind of treatment since that day at the park. That day, he'd desperately wanted to suggest it, but it almost seemed ridiculous considering everything Castiel had told him.

"Well, yes." Castiel said, looking uncomfortable. "I take a combination of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications and I see a therapist once a month."

Dean hadn't known that either. He decided not to say anything else about it. Just like Cas hadn't known Sam before he was sick, Dean hadn't known Castiel when he was at his worst. He was secretly relieved that Castiel was getting some kind of help. It was clear that he was doing well for the most part, and Dean had no idea what Castiel's version of "rock bottom" was. He'd only seen a glimpse of it during the last few months.

He reached over and took Castiel's hand. "One more thing before we get to the Halloween festivities, whatever they may be. I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

Castiel shrugged. "I don't really have many plans. I used to go home and spend them with my last set of foster parents, the ones I told you about, but they're older now. They go to Michigan to be with their grandchildren. I mean, real blood is thicker than state-sponsored blood, I guess."

"Were you planning on staying here?" Dean asked.

"Probably. Nowhere else to go." Castiel said, a look of misery dancing across his features as he said that. "I was thinking about asking Charlie… if maybe… since she lives here and all."

"Nonsense. That settles it. You are coming home with me." Dean said.

"What? Why?" Castiel said. His voice was bewildered.

"Because, Cas, everyone deserves to be around loved ones during this time of year. I'm staying here for Thanksgiving and Jo and I are going to make dinner, like we usually do, and _of course_ you're invited to eat with us. But even more, if you would accept, I'd love it if you came home with me for Christmas."

"To Kansas?"

"Yes, to Kansas, you goof. If you didn't hear it, during that chat with my family, Sammy convinced me to come home. I need back up for something like that and you need a place to spend the holidays. It's a perfect fit." Dean said.

"You're asking me to spend Christmas with you? Isn't that a little fast? I mean, last night was the first time…" Castiel started. Dean knew he was trying to be logical, but he could the smile tugging at his mouth.

"I'm not leaving until around the 18th. That gives us a month and a half to prepare for it. I know you want to say yes, Cas, so just say it." Dean said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Dean cried.

"Okay then. I suppose I could do that. I mean, I've never…"

"Cas, if you say 'I never' again, I am going to force you to cross-dress tonight." Dean said, reaching over and tousling his hair.


	10. Chapter 10

When Dean saw himself in the mirror, he seriously considered murdering both Jo and Castiel.

"This is what I've been reduced to." He muttered. "This is how they see me. I am a piece of man meat, wearing a speedo and body glitter."

Dean experimentally ran a finger across his face, trying to get used to his 'look" for the evening. When he pulled his finger away, it was caked in powder. _He was wearing makeup._

Jo and Castiel were dead.

Jo and Castiel came into the bedroom and Jo let out a long squeal.

"Oh my God! You look awesome!" She cried.

"I'm not wearing this. I don't care if it's Halloween. Dean Winchester does notwear makeup _._ He does not wear golden, shiny speedos."

"Come on, Dean! You look great!" She said. "Cas, don't you think he looks great?"

"His outfit is rather Spartan." Castiel said, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel stood there wearing his trench coat, which still swallowed him up.

"What are you supposed to be, huh Cas? A dirty old man in the park? Really, Jo, he gets to wear his goddamn trench coat, yet I'm expected to wear _this?"_ Dean yelled.

"Dean, are you actually pissed off about this? Come on, be a bigger baby." Jo said.

"I'm wearing the trench coat because my costume leaves me feeling chilly." Castiel said, as if it were totally obvious.

"I told you, since Portland didn't work out, we are going to a Rocky Horror party instead. Thus, we are going as Rocky Horror characters. You're just lucky that I still had spankies from cheerleading and that our school colors were gold and white. Or else you would have had to deal with the humiliation of buying a gold speedo."

"These are your cheerleading underwear _?"_ Dean said, feeling equal parts disgusted and outraged. "Jo! I know you! You didn't wear anything underneath these! You liked to do the pyramid without them!"

"You pig, those have been washed. I haven't worn them in years." Jo said, looking legitimately appalled at Dean's insinuation.

"Cas, did you know she was going to make me wear this? I thought I'd be Meatloaf or something, not the gay dude in the gold speedo!"

"Rocky." Jo emphasized.

"Dean, who else did you think you'd be? We don't have enough people in our group to portray minor characters." Castiel said, semi-seriously.

Castiel really took Halloween more seriously than Dean would have ever imagined.

"Well, who the hell are you supposed to be? Who are you, Jo?" Dean said. "As far as I can tell, you're Jo in a bra and underwear and Cas in a trench coat. I'm the only one in a costume here."

"I'm Janet!" Jo said.

"You're wearing a bra and underwear. How the hell will people know you're Janet?"

"For one thing, most people have seen the film, and before we leave, I'm going to have Cas paint 'dammit Janet' across my chest."

"That is fucking stupid. I am not wearing this." Dean said.

"Dean! Come on." Jo said. "Seriously, get a load of what your boy toy is sporting before you smear your makeup from crying so much."

Castiel took off the trench coat, looking slightly embarrassed, although he was nowhere near as embarrassed as Dean was when he saw what he was wearing. Castiel was sporting a pair of black fishnet stockings with black garters, a lacy black corset, and a pair of shimmery black undergarments. The outfit was obscene and Dean didn't know if he was mortified or aroused.

"Jesus Christ." Dean breathed.

"Before we leave, I'm going to complete the costume with the makeup, hair and pumps." Jo added. "Luckily, he can borrow mine because I have such large, manly feet."

"Cas, last night you made a huge deal about not cross dressing and now you're going to wear… _that?"_ Dean said.

"It wasn't cross-dressing that bothered me. It was your whole French maid idea." Castiel said, as if there were a huge difference between a French maid and Frank-N-Furter.

Jo actually looked a little disgusted. "Okay, I do not want to know what you are talking about. But come on, Dean, doesn't he look hot? Don't make dear, sweet Cas face the party alone without a Rocky by his side."

"Cas, how can you be so... shy in public, yet wear that?" Dean asked. He was incredulous. He never thought once that Cas would be caught dead wearing something like his current outfit in public.

"It's Halloween. Somehow, it doesn't bother me." Castiel said with a shrug.

Out of nowhere, Charlie came into the bedroom. She let out a scream that destroyed everyone's eardrums and broke all of the mirrors in the room.

"OH MY GOD! You guys look awesome!" She screamed.

Jo actually winced at her squeal. "Thanks, girl. So do you!"

Out of all of the people who had dressed up like a French maid, it had to be Charlie. He could never watch a porno featuring a sexy maid again.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Dean demanded. "Why are you not dressed as someone from Rocky Horror?"

"I'm Magenta, you moron. Haven't you ever seen it?" Charlie said. She turned to Jo. "Is he putting up a fight?"

Jo and Castiel nodded simultaneously. Dean felt insulted. Since when was Castiel in on the anti-Dean schemes that his two best friends always seemed to concoct?

"Dean, you're the only one buff enough to play Rocky." Charlie said bluntly. "Jo and I are lacking the obvious equipment and no offense, but Cas, you're a little scrawny."

"You look positively delicious, even if the outfit is a little… revealing." Castiel added.

Jo made a face when Cas said that, but continued. "Come on, Dean. Have a little fun. You can bring your civilian clothes if you want to change. But everyone there will be dressed like this. It's our last Halloween together. Don't you want to go out with a bang?"

Dean felt himself smile a little bit. It was true, he was in the best shape of everyone in the room and would pull off the speedo better than anyone else he knew. Castiel was too meek and skinny to wear the golden speedo with the bravado that Dean could. At least he wasn't in drag like Castiel was either. Jo also had a point. It _was_ their last Halloween together at college. Next year, he might have to hand out treats to small children. He felt himself giving in, feeling better about the golden spankies he was currently wearing. His friends knew him too well. Appealing to his sense of vanity and his sentimentality… well, they were good.

Around 8:00 pm, the four of them arrived at the large house where the Rocky Horror Picture Show party was taking place. They were earlier than the other guests because Charlie's band was playing and she and her bandmates needed time to set up and drink copiously before they performed. Charlie was always up to the challenge of performing while intoxicated.

Dean hadn't been to a house party in months. He was 26, much older than many other college students, and he felt ridiculous cheering as people almost 10 years younger than him did keg stands. Castiel hadn't been to a house party since he had started working at the college, which was probably smart. Dean was actually surprised he had agreed to come tonight, since wasn't the party-going type and also because he risked professional suicide showing up dressed in drag at a house party. The house they were going to was usually frequented by townies and grad students, since that was Charlie's crowd outside of Jo and Dean, but there was still a chance one of his students would be there.

The house's owner, a jovial man named Gabe who worked as some kind of accountant at the college and played guitar in Charlie's band, greeted them at the door. Dean was disappointed to see that he was also dressed as Frank-N-Furter, but at least it was the version of Frank-N-Furter in the blue smock and heels. Dean realized he wasn't ready to see dozens of men in drag tonight, even though he kind of did like Castiel's costume.

"Come in, come in! You all look fabulous!" Gabe said.

The house was awash in props Dean assumed that were supposed to resemble the set of Rocky Horror. Someone had set up projectors and the movie was currently playing silently on each one of the walls in the large living room, where the band would play and most of the action would take place. Dean had to admit that the place looked good. He hadn't seen Rocky Horror Picture Show in years, mostly because he wasn't a huge dork, but it definitely had the feel that the movie and stage show did.

"Jo." Gabe said, leering at her as she took off the coat, sporting the white bra and underwear set, with DAMMIT JANET emblazoned across her chest in red body paint. "Darling, you look positively mouthwatering."

"Gabe, I've told you this for years, it's not happening. You're not my type." Jo said, glancing at him with a smirk on her face.

"Seriously Gabe. Sing us a new tune." Dean said. "It's never happening."

Dean glanced over at Cas, who was still wearing the trench coat. Gabe was a huge personality and he also hit on every woman that moved, even if they weren't of his sexual orientation. Dean knew that he was exactly the kind of person who made Castiel uncomfortable. Dean hadn't warned him that most people they would be coming into contact with tonight were like that. Charlie's large group of friends was very flamboyant. Following Castiel's lead, Dean left his coat and jeans on. He hadn't been been planning on stripping down until he had a few drinks in his system anyway.

"Gabe, this is my… this is Castiel." He said.

Gabe stuck out a hand and gave Castiel a cheeky grin. "Hello Castiel."

"Hello." Castiel murmured. "I like your costume."

"Gabe, go easy on Cas." Charlie said. "He's shy and he's not used to large groups of people or assholes like you."

Castiel looked embarrassed, but also relieved.

"Come into the kitchen, ladies and Castiel. I made hors d'oeuvres and there is some delicious wine that is far too expensive to share with the teeming masses that will be arriving in the next couple of hours." Gabe said.

They followed Gabe into the kitchen, where they were met with greeting from the rest of Charlie's bandmates and a couple of people Dean recognized from past gatherings at Gabe's house. One person Dean did recognize in particular was Anna Milton, who was Gabe's younger sister, and a woman who both he and Jo had pursued aggressively in the past. To Dean's dismay, Jo had won. He glanced over at his best friend, whose smile indicated that she thought she might win again tonight.

"Anna, what are you doing back in town?" Jo asked, sending her a smile that could only be described as coy.

"Just visiting for the weekend. Couldn't miss Gabe's big Halloween bash. Jo, you look very nice tonight. I appreciate the veracity of your costume." She said.

Yeah, Jo was definitely getting lucky tonight. Dean was glad because Anna was wearing nothing more than a sheer negligee and her red hair seemed more lustrous than it had the last time he saw her. Despite everything, Dean was still into women and Anna had always stirred something inside his pants. He was glad that Jo would take her off his hands, and thus his mind.

"Hello Dean, Charlie." She added as an afterthought.

Dean was so relieved.

"Everyone, this is my, uh, this is Castiel." Dean said.

"Dean, goddamnit, he's your boyfriend." Jo said, smirking at him. "Or I guess you could just keep calling him 'your Castiel.'"

Dammit Janet.

Dean glanced at Castiel, who looked even more nervous than when he had met Gabe. There were 6 new faces around the table and Jo had just outed them. To everyone's credit, no one said anything, even though Dean's past forays into homosexuality were not widely known. Dean had never actually referred to Cas as his boyfriend before, even though they were exclusive and, as of the night before, sleeping together.

Charlie swooped in, full of social grace as usual, and introduced everyone. "Cas, this lovely lady with the red hair is Anna, Gabe's sister. This looker, the one dressed oh-so appropriately as Satan, is Nick. He's our drummer. This is Balthazar, he's British so you'll remember him. The lady in black is Meg. The deadly serious looking one without the costume is Raphael, our bassist."

"H-h-hello." Castiel sputtered. He gripped the trench coat close to his body and reached for the glass of wine that Gabe had set in front of him. "I will not remember all of your names. I apologize in advance."

"Don't worry, we won't remember yours either." Balthazar said merrily. "A few of us have already imbibed quite a bit. Meg here is already rolling, so be forewarned!"

"Nick, your doing?" Dean asked pointedly. Over the summer, Nick had convinced Jo and Charlie that it was a good idea to trip on mushrooms at a music festival in Portland. Dean had spent the entire day babysitting and actually missed Bon Jovi's performance. He was still bitter.

Nick raised his hands. "Hey, hey, don't look at me like that, Dean. The lady inquired and I simply provided."

Jo glared at him. Her foray into hallucinogens had been a first and last time kind of deal. She hadn't enjoyed it.

"It's a damn shame." Meg murmured. She was clutching her feather boa and stroking it as if it were the most touchable thing on earth. "It's a goddamn shame."

"What's a shame, Meggles?" Balthazar asked, patting her on the shoulder.

"That Dean got to him first." Meg breathed, her eyes becoming so huge it was almost comical.

Castiel choked on a tiny hot dog. Dean glanced at him and gave him an encouraging smile. Castiel was definitely not ready for these people. Dean had known most of them for years and still left every encounter with them feeling exhausted. He felt like he should have done something to prepare him for the storm that was Charlie's group of friends.

The group sat around the table for an hour or so, drinking wine and eating the appetizers. Castiel eventually drunk enough wine to take off his trench coat and reveal the full glory of his Frank-N-Furter costume. Meg hovered around him like a fly and Dean actually started getting slightly jealous, even though he was pretty sure Meg wasn't Castiel's type in any sense of the word. Dean kept an eye on his alcohol intake, hoping that the night wouldn't end badly like it had the last time they'd all gone out drinking. Balthazar told stories about being British, which everyone found hilarious, even though he'd only lived in Britain until he was 14 and he was now 29. Jo and Anna were close, getting closer with each drink. Seeing Jo with his sister which effectively ended Gabe's leering and flirting, which he promptly turned to Meg. By the time people started arriving, Dean was feeling pretty loose and he didn't even mind when Jo and Anna started making out in full view of everyone.

"You having fun, Cas?" He asked him as they wandered out into the living room.

"Actually, yes. It's been quite awhile since I've attended a social gathering like this." Castiel said, nodding a little. "I guess normal people would call it a party.

They sat down on a couch in front of one of the Rocky Horror walls. Dean, still not in costume, but feeling comfortable enough for PDA, draped his arm around Castiel's narrow shoulders. After a few glasses of wine, he was starting to see the appeal of Castiel's costume too. It was definitely shaping up to be a good night.

"Cas, this is dumb, but are you comfortable? This isn't too much?"

""Yes. I actually quite liked everyone I met, with the exception of Meg, who kept whispering in my ear. Raphael is actually joining the Arts and Sciences department next semester as a graduate assistant, so I am not alone in my profession here."

"So this isn't geeking you out? I mean, the guy I met in August never would have come to something like this, or at least it didn't seem like he would."

"Since I've met you, since I've started socializing with your friends, I've become more open. I haven't always been a hermit. I did go out in college, even though I didn't like it a lot of the time. Now though, it's easier. You tend to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin, Dean. " He said shrugging.

"Comfortable enough to dress like _that?"_ Dean joked.

"You hate it that much?" He said.

Dean couldn't tell if he was being serious or sly.

"I guess it's okay." Dean admitted, running a hand over the fishnets, trying to be discreet so everyone wouldn't think he was some kind of weirdo with a love for cross-dressers. "I gotta say, I like _these."_

Castiel glanced up at him and gave him a devious smile. "Fishnets?"

"Let's just say it's good I'm still wearing jeans. Jo's… spankies… don't leave much to the imagination."

Castiel just laughed, but didn't go for the huge shows of PDA that he had attempted in the past.

By around 11:00, the party was in full swing, with Rocky Horror playing on every wall, although you couldn't hear it over the people singing along with the songs and the yelling partygoers. Dean was content to sit on the couch, sipping beer and snuggling his Frank-N-Furter. Anna and Jo were sitting on a nearby loveseat, whispering to each other and making out every few minutes. Dean was happy for her, because his friend was picky and had only found women she liked in nearby cities, which were too far away for anything lasting. Meg had moved onto Nick, which seemed to suit the devilish bassist just fine.

Charlie came over to them, clutching a bottle of bourbon. "You two aren't much for socializing, are you?" She asked, taking a swig from the bottle. She grinned at them, only slightly unsteady on her feet.

"I'd prefer not to let him out of my sight looking like this." Dean joked.

"Well, we're about to go on, so I relinquish this to you." She said, handing Dean the bottle. "Dean-o, I better see you out there shaking it in your speedo when we perform 'I Can Make You a Man', same goes for you Cas, when we perform 'Sweet Transvestite.'"

Castiel just snorted, indicating that she was out of luck.

"Don't let the spins affect your singing, Charlie." He called as she teetered off to the front of the room, where they'd set up a makeshift stage.

She threw him a middle finger. Dean just laughed and took a swig of bourbon.

Once Charlie announced the party that momentarily they were going to perform a few of "Frank-N-Furter's Favorites," Dean decided that he could maybe wear his 'costume' for one or two songs. Everyone there was pretty drunk and there were at least three other Rockies, none of whom looked as good in the gold speedo as he did.

"Alright Cas, I'm going in. The gold speedo is coming out for one song. Maybe two. " He said to him. "Burn this image in your memory, because this is the first and last time I will ever be seen in public wearing something this ridiculous."

Dean took a huge swig of bourbon and handed over to Castiel. He stripped down to the speedo, catching a few strange looks from people around him, which offended Dean because one guy had shown up to the party wearing nothing but a thong and a corset. Hell, Anna was practically naked and Jo was wearing a bra and panties. He tucked his clothes into a plastic bag and stuck it behind the couch.

"Nice ass." Castiel said, giggling. He reached over and swatted at it.

"Never again, Cas. I am never dressing like this again." He hissed.

He was practically naked in a room full of people. It was one of his worst nightmares come true. He grabbed the bourbon and took another burning drink, and pulled Castiel to the front of the room so they could watch Charlie's band.

"Okay everyone! We are 'LARP and the Real Girl' and I'm your hostess for the night, Magenta! Everyone give a big hand for our very own sweet transvestite, Gabe for hosting this beautiful gig!" She cried.

Gabe stepped forward, gave every woman in the room a smarmy grin and saluted to Charlie. The entire room burst into cheers and applause, with a few catcalls, that made Gabe's face light up even more.

"We're going to keep it short tonight since we know you're all wasted and want to get back to pawing at each other, but for now, please, give in to absolute pleasure!"

LARP and the Real Girl began the chorus to 'Sweet Transvestite' and Charlie actually winked at Cas from her spot behind the microphone, which made him light in a way that made Dean swoon. He was getting drunk, and Castiel's huge smile and fishnets were doing a number on him. He didn't even notice when another "Janet," who mercifully wasn't Jo, came up to him and started flirting with him. He only had eyes for the ridiculously awkward sociology professor in the corset.

Dean didn't dance so much as sway, but by the end of LARP's set, he was deliriously happy and would have broken into the Time Warp if someone had asked him to and he knew the dance. Castiel didn't dance because he was wearing black patent leather pumps, but Dean could tell he was joyful too by the glow in his eyes and the loose way he moved through the crowd without cringing or darting his eyes back and forth. It was strange to see him so at ease that it made Dean at ease too, even though his ass was covered in shimmery gold fabric.

Charlie ended the band's set by throwing a bunch of confetti into the crowd and screaming "GO, GIVE IN TO ABSOLUTE PLEASURE!"

Dean grabbed Castiel's hand and ran back to the couch. He grabbed his clothes and shimmied back into them.

"Let's get out of here." He whispered, leaning over and kissing him on the mouth.

"But Dean, neither of us is in shape to drive." Castiel said, giggling some more.

"This house is huge. Let's find an empty room." He murmured, running his fingers over the fishnet. "These are killing me. I'm no longer able to deny that you look fucking delicious in that costume."

As they scaled the stairs, hands everywhere, desperate to get out of their outlandish costumes, Dean heard Tim Curry crooning, _"I've seen blue skies through the tears in my eyes and I realize I'm going home."_

On a night like this, he couldn't relate more.


	11. Chapter 11

It was mid-November and Dean hardly ever spent the night at his apartment anymore. Castiel's apartment was nicer, had a better sound system, a bigger bed, and was closer to campus. Jo complained that she hardly ever saw him anymore and started coming over to Castiel's place without asking, just like she always had with Dean. He warned Castiel that she might make herself a key soon and one day he'd come out of the shower naked, and she'd be standing in his kitchen, drinking a beer and making herself dinner. It had happened to Dean on more than one occasion.

It was a Friday night and the three of them were sitting in Castiel's living room, watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Castiel refused to watch Dr. Sexy MD because he claimed it had "no artistic merit" and also proclaimed that he was offended that they expected him to watch "a glorified prime-time soap opera."

"So, it's almost Thanksgiving break." Jo said. "I cannot tell you how excited I am. I am so ready to be done with this semester. I have no idea why I am required to take a copy editing class as an advertising major."

"If you write ad copy, you're going to need to know AP Style and how to write proper headlines." Castiel said blankly, as if this was common knowledge, watching as Eliot Stabler punched a suspect.

Jo just glowered at him a little bit, but then she smiled. She was finally used to Castiel's weird collection of knowledge about subjects that had little to do with his daily life.

"Why is he punching that guy? It's already been implied that he's not the rapist." Dean said, waving at the screen. "If he were a cop in real life, he would lose his job for this."

"It's Law and Order, Dean. Suspension of imagination is required. Not all cops are like the ones in Lawrence. Not all cops relate back to your dad." Jo said, taking a swig of beer.

"Your dad's a cop?" Castiel asked.

Dean snorted. "Hell no. He tried a bunch of times, was far too drunk to ever make it into the academy." Dean said, his voice sharp.

Whenever he thought about his father and his failed dreams, Dean got unnecessarily angry.

"Drop it, Cas." Jo advised. She glanced at Dean. "Sorry for bringing it up." She said, with actual sincerity.

Dean shook his head. "It's cool. Sorry for getting bitchy there for a second."

Castiel scooted over on the couch and Dean absently reached over and rubbed the top of his thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Castiel giggled a little bit and lifted his face and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek.

"You guys make me want to puke." Jo said, only semi-seriously.

Dean just smirked at her and threw the pillow sitting next to him at her. Castiel looked confused and then seemed to remember that Dean, Charlie and Jo routinely threw things at each other, typically whatever was convenient. They were all getting used to each other and life was slipping into an easy, but pleasurable monotony. For Dean, it was class and studying, occasional shifts at the Kohl's factory packing up shipments for the Christmas rush, his friends, talking to Sam on Skype several times a week, and evenings on the couch with Castiel and sometimes, often times, Jo. Dean imagined that this was how life was supposed to be, even though he knew things never stayed quiet for too long.

That night, Dean awoke to Castiel shaking him. He glanced over at the clock radio next to the bed. It was 3:30 in the morning.

"Dean, Dean. Dean! Wake up!" Castiel hissed.

"What is it? Cas, what's wrong?" He said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Dean, it's your mom."

He sat up immediately. He reached over and turned on the light next to his bed. Castiel was standing next to the bed, his hair a rumpled mess, his face worried and upset. He was holding Dean's cell phone.

Dean grabbed the phone from him.

"Mom? What is it?" He asked.

"Oh Dean, I'm sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but it's your brother." She said, her voice breaking.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a ragged sigh.

_Goddamnit, Sammy._

"What happened?" He asked wearily.

"I had to call 911, Dean, I'm so sorry. It's bad, not as bad as when you were here with him, not as bad as last Halloween, but honey, he's in a dire situation right now."

They called Sam's relapses and episodes "situations" and calling 911 for an ambulance instead of the police meant the "situation" was not out of control, not just yet.

"What did he do?"

"I found him in the kitchen, talking to himself. He was muttering things I couldn't really make out. He accused… a demon of wearing my face. He didn't come after me though, he was just yelling at me, and then talking to himself, or someone he thought was next to me. I don't know, I called 911, I didn't know if he'd come at me if I tried to talk him to the hospital myself." She said.

"Mom, are you okay?" He asked. She sounded terrible.

"Dean, I don't know. He was doing so well. I was finally relaxing. But… this, I should have expected it. Been ready for it." She said.

He could tell she was crying.

"Where is he now?"

"He's in the psych ward at St. Pete's. I think they'll level out his dose and keep him for a few days. He wasn't violent this time, so I think he'll be out after the 72-hour hold."

"Did he quit taking his meds?" Dean asked.

"The doctor tapered down the Haldol. You know how the side effects are, Dean. He'd been doing so well. He was quiet the last couple of days, but I thought it was okay. I watched him take it every day, I counted the pills, I even checked his mouth at first, Dean. I swear, I don't think he quit taking them this time. I think they just overestimated how much they could decrease the dose." She said, sniffling.

"Do you want me to come home early? It's almost Thanksgiving break and I have to be back for finals, but I can get on a plane tomorrow." He said.

"No, no. You stay there. Come home at Christmas. Sammy and I will be fine. I still have some of his college fund left over. I might hire someone to stay with him at night, when I'm at work."

Mary worked part time as a nurse, doing night shifts at the hospital and took care of Sam during the day, administering his medication, making sure he didn't wander off, making sure he got onto the bus to go to class. She was more qualified than most people to take care of him.

"Mom, are you sure? I can come." He said.

"No, Dean. Don't come. Stay. I'm just grateful you'll be here for Christmas. I just wanted to tell you. Go back to sleep honey. Sam will be fine. I'll call you tomorrow to update you. He's sedated for now and we won't know anything until at least late tomorrow morning." She said.

"I'm so sorry, mom. I love you guys, okay?" He said.

"I love you too. You give that boy of yours a hug too. I was a mess when I first called you. Such a sweet boy. I will see you soon." She said, hanging up the phone.

Dean set the phone down and sat there in the darkness for a minute. Sam had been doing so well. He hadn't expected this, even though, as his mother said, they should have. Sam was sick. Sam would always be sick. Dean remembered why he hadn't been home in so long. Dealing with Sam, dealing with his broken mother and absentee father who his mother just wouldn't leave, this was why he didn't want to go home. He was grateful his mother had said for him not to leave early. He probably wouldn't have been able to do it.

"Dean, are you okay?" Castiel asked, his voice tinny and small in the darkness.

"What did you say to her?" Dean asked. "You shouldn't have talked to her. That's my responsibility."

"She was crying so hard, I couldn't understand her. She thought I was you. I just… wanted her to calm down before she spoke to you." Castiel said.

"Cas, that shit, my family shit, it's not your problem. You don't need that hanging over you too. You have enough to deal with yourself." Dean said, more sharply than he intended.

"I'm sorry." Castiel said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Cas, just drop it. Right now, I don't need this." He muttered, closing his eyes.

"I'm really sorry." He said again. Dean heard the bed creak and Castiel slunk out of the bedroom. Dean heard the bathroom door slam.

Dean groaned inwardly and fell backwards on the bed. He knew he shouldn't have semi-yelled at Castiel, who had just been trying to help, but Sam and his familial problems were not Castiel's problem, nor were they his business. Castiel already had enough of his own baggage and taking on the issues Dean had with his family would be enough to send him spiraling, back down to the place where he'd been when Dean had first met him. Dean also didn't want him seeing how truly fucked up his family was.

Dean hadn't told Castiel about how many times his parents had run off during his childhood to 'rekindle their love' and how he'd been tasked with caring for Sam for sometimes weeks at a time. He hadn't told him about how Mary was still technically married to his father, even though they hadn't lived together in years. Castiel didn't know about the two times that Sam had come after Dean with weapons, convinced Dean was "possessed" and how Dean had to fight him in self-defense and then call the police. He didn't know that when Sam had first gotten sick, Dean had been convinced he was on drugs and thrown him out of the house. Castiel just knew the sweet, blond version of Mary Winchester who cared for Sam and the smiling, lovable yet slightly "off" version of Sam. Castiel had no idea what his family was like.

Dean sat up and went and stood outside the bathroom. The door was closed and the light was off. Dean heard muffled crying coming from inside.

"Good going, Winchester." He muttered to himself. He knocked on the door. "Cas? Buddy? I'm coming in."

Dean pushed the door open, thankful it was unlocked. That was a good sign.

"Leave me alone." Castiel wheezed. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, crying.

Dean sighed. Castiel had been doing so well. He hadn't shed a tear in weeks, he hadn't consumed one drop of liquor, he had grown markedly less tense around new people, their sex life had been healthy and robust, and he hadn't gone catatonic during any of the little fights they'd had over personal space or proper PDA etiquette.

Dean squatted down next to the tub. "Cas, come back to bed." He said. He reached over and stroked his cheek. "I need you to be strong for me right now. I really can't be here for you as much as I'd like right now. Please, just come back to me. Don't isolate, baby."

"I'm sorry." Castiel said for the third time. He lowered his head and stared at the ground.

"Don't be sorry, Cas. My mom said you were sweet. I shouldn't have been an ass, okay? Please just come back to bed."

"She said I was sweet?" He whispered.

"Yes, she said to give you a hug because you were such a 'sweet boy.' I agree with her too. You're sweet and I'm a huge ass. Okay?" Dean murmured.

Castiel didn't say anything for a minute, just sniffling. Finally, he stood up.

"You're not an ass." He said simply.

Dean smiled in the darkness. They went back to bed. Castiel snuggled up against him in the darkness. Dean wrapped an arm around him. They lay there, few minutes passing in silence.

"Cas? You awake?" He whispered.

"Yeah."

"My family is really fucked up, okay? I just don't want you to know that side of my life." He said. "That's why I was kind of a bitch about it."

"You don't understand, Dean. You know almost everything about me. You're so strong for me, for everyone. I want to know all of you, even the bad parts. I want to be strong for you too. Especially right now. I know you need someone."

"You are strong, Cas. You're doing so well, dealing with all of that shit you've been through." Dean said, rolling over on his side and staring at him.

"I want to be there for you like you are for me. Dean, I need to be." He whispered.

Dean reached over and brushed a piece of his perpetually too-long brown hair out of his eyes. He kissed him on the forehead.

"You will be, Cas. I just… have to let you, okay? I'm not totally there yet, you know?"

"I know. Can you try though?" Castiel said hopefully.

"Cas, you know more about me than anyone, besides Jo. I trust you with parts of myself that I've never trusted anyone with before. I'm closer with you than I've ever been with any other significant other. I am trying. I'm trying because, Cas, to be totally honest, I have fallen for you, completely." He murmured, leaning over and kissing him again.

"The feeling's mutual. You know, Dean, I…" Castiel mumbled into his mouth. "Dean, I think there's a 99% chance that I might be in love with you."

When he said that, Dean felt him tense up, his body a drum.

Dean brushed his hair out of his eyes again, kissing him to try to get rid of the apprehension that Castiel obviously felt about saying those words. "The feelings mutual." He repeated. "Love you too, Cas."

He felt Cas blink rapidly and smile. "I never…" he started. Then he started over because he knew that it pissed Dean off when he said _I never_. "Let's try to go to sleep."

Dean rolled over on his back, but continued to hold Castiel's hand. Dean had known for awhile that he loved Cas, like _really_ loved him. He just didn't say it to many people, preferring them to say it first. Dean figured that people who were in love were there for each other. Dean knew he was there for him and that eventually he would have to let Cas be there for him in the same way. In the dark Dean resolved let some more of his walls down. Dean wanted Castiel to stick around, so he guessed he'd just have to ease Castiel into what his family life was really like. Right now, it felt like it was him and Castiel against the world. Unfortunately that world included horrible abuse and a schizophrenic brother. Dean thought their collective dark pasts. Castiel's baggage was uniquely his own, but Dean had to share his with hospitals, doctors, insurance companies and the three (two?) members of his family. Lying there with Castiel, but wordlessly retreating to darker corner of his mind, Dean wished silently that he didn't have a family.


	12. Chapter 12

"At least he wasn't seeing Ruby." Dean whispered to himself.

He was repeating variations on these six words to himself, like a mantra. Although neither he nor his mother could be sure what Sam was seeing, they didn't think he was seeing Ruby. Ruby meant that he was lost, possibly for weeks. Ruby was his strongest, most dangerous delusion. When he saw her, Sam retreated so far into his own mind that sometimes it'd take tranquilizing levels of antipsychotics to coax him out of his hallucinations and back to reality. When he saw her, he became violent. Dean was grateful he hadn't gotten violent the night before. It was a small favor, but violence meant police, courts and state-mandated psychiatric treatment.

"At least he's not seeing Ruby." He repeated, trying to convince himself that Sam would only be in the hospital two or three days and that he'd come out relatively unscathed.

Dean was sitting on his bed. For the last three hours, he'd been trying to study for the GRE, which he was taking for a second time in the beginning of December. His scores the first time had been good, but not great. He'd signed up for it again right after Halloween, when he'd been convinced that his life would be smooth sailing for awhile. As always, he'd been wrong.

On cue, when Dean felt the mantra no longer working, Jo came into his bedroom.

"Dean, I'm so sorry." She murmured.

Dean stared at her. Jo was normally biting and sarcastic, like one of the guys. Right now she just looked soft and sympathetic, all traces of her typically wry demeanor gone.

"He's in the hospital. He'll be okay."

Jo just nodded and came over to him, sitting next to him on the bed. "Cas told me. What did your mom say?"

"He thought a demon was wearing her face."

Jo wrapped an arm around him Dean let his face fall to her chest. Jo took the GRE book, which had mostly remained unopened, and set it aside.

"He'll be okay, Dean. He'll come out of it."

"What if he doesn't? What if he stays like this?"

"He won't."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He was so tired. He hadn't slept at all after his mother had called the night before. Cas had passed out immediately after his minor breakdown in the bathroom and his tossing and turning had kept Dean awake. Normally he found it reassuring, knowing he was there, that his busy mind was working even as he slept, but last night it had kept him from sleeping and around 6:30, he had given up completely.

"What are the doctors saying?" Jo asked slowly.

"They say he'll be fine once they level out the medication. They think it happened because they tapered him off the Haldol too quickly." Dean said.

"See? He'll be fine. He always is. You know that these things happen." Jo murmured, rubbing his shoulder.

"These things _always_ happen."

"What does your mom think?"

"She's freaked out. This is only the second time she's ever had to deal with this by herself. This time is worse too. Last time he was just talking to himself." Dean said, referring to the birthday episode from the year before.

"She'll get through it. Mary's strong." Jo said, her voice sounding as if she were trying to convince herself as well as Dean.

"I'm just hoping she doesn't leave. If she leaves now, I'm still two days away in a car."

"She won't leave."

Dean sat there for a long time with Jo. He didn't say much. He couldn't. Jo comforted him with her silence. Eventually he fell asleep on her shoulder because he was both mentally and physically exhausted. She tucked him in as if he were her child instead of her best friend.

Dean awoke to his phone ringing. He looked down at the caller ID. It was Castiel. Dean sighed. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Castiel, his family, or really anyone besides Jo. Despite dropping the L-bomb the night before and his silent vow to "let his walls down" the night before, he didn't want to share this with anyone.

"Hello?" He mumbled.

"Hey. It's me. I canceled my 3pm class. I'm coming over." Castiel said on the other end.

"You didn't have to cancel your class. I'm fine." He lied.

"I already did and I'm sure I made their day. I'll be over in 15 minutes. I got you lunch."

Dean tried not to groan. "Okay, Cas. Thanks. "

Castiel arrived almost exactly 15 minutes later with burgers from 5 Guys. When Dean smelled them, his stomach growled. He hadn't realized how hungry was. They sat down at the tiny bar in his kitchen and Castiel passed Dean a burger.

"Turducken slammer with extra pickles and ketchup." Castiel clarified, smiling a little.

Castiel knew exactly what kind of burger he liked.

"You're a keeper." He said, taking a huge bite.

Dean didn't know if Castiel had gotten tips for taking care of him from Jo, because he had brought Dean his most beloved sandwich and didn't ask him too much about Sam. They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the couch watching Jo's DVDs of Dr. Sexy MD, which had mysteriously appeared after she stopped by earlier. Castiel hated Dr. Sexy MD, so it was a real testament to his love for Dean that he sat there and watched it, even laughing at times.

Dr. Sexy MD was performing an emergency quadruple bypass when Dean's mother called.

"How is he?" Dean asked without saying hello.

"He's a little better." She said. "He's awake. They didn't have to strap him down this afternoon."

When Sam had to be restrained, that usually meant that he was at his worst.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, "How long are they keeping him?"

"Probably a couple of more days. He's still… seeing things." She said. "But I think he is realizing they aren't real."

"How do you know that?"

The four times that Sam had been hospitalized when it was mostly just the two of them, Dean the only person watching out for him, Sam had never once realized his delusions weren't real.

"He keeps repeating 'I know it's not real' and he recognized me." She said.

"Whoop-di-fucking-doo. He recognized you, but he's still seeing shit. You know what that means." Dean said, suddenly feeling unreasonably angry at his brother.

 _Same shit, different day._ He thought to himself.

"It's a start, Dean." She said "Do you want to talk to him? They said he could talk to you. The doctors remember you."

Of course they did. He had been a regular in the psychiatric ward of St. Peter's for a solid year and a half of his life. Visiting Sam after he'd snapped. Dropping Sam off at group therapy. Taking Sam to emergency psychiatric visits. Picking up Sam's hardcore medication, when he'd been prescribed the kind that had to be injected. He'd been a regular when his mother was in Ohio or "too mentally exhausted" to go herself, while his father was off drunk somewhere. He'd been there when no one else was.

"No. No. Absolutely not." Dean said, frantically shaking his head.

"Dean, your voice might help ground him." She said soothingly.

"I said no." He snapped.

"Okay. Sorry."

"Tell him I said to get well soon." His voice was rough.

"Are you still coming home in December?" She asked, completely changing the subject.

"I don't know." He muttered.

His mother sighed, but didn't push the subject. "Okay, well, I'll call you tomorrow. I can tell you don't feel like talking."

"Mom, I'm sorry." He said.

She had already hung up the phone.

When he hung up the phone, Castiel was giving him that usual curious stare of his. Dean couldn't stop thinking about how he looked like a bird, with that stare and that head tilt of his. He half expected him to sprout wings. Dean just watched him for a second and then suddenly his apartment felt small. Too small.

"Let's go out." Dean said. "I can't sit here and wallow for another minute."

"Where?"

"I need whiskey. Now. Let's go to Trickster's. I don't have a lot of money and they have $1 shots." Dean said, standing up.

"Dean, are you sure it's wise to be drinking?" Castiel asked carefully. "I can tell you're not in the best sorts right now."

"Come with me or don't, I'm going to Trickster's." He said, standing up, at the door in five seconds. He grabbed his jacket, the leather jacket that had belonged to his father, one of the only mementos of his that he kept around besides the Impala.

Twenty minutes later, after a very chilly walk, they were sitting at a table in Trickster's and Dean had a beer and two shots sitting in front of him. Trickster's was a grungy dive bar that inexplicably featured cage dancers once a week. It was not a "college bar" by any means and that is one reason Dean liked it. He was sure he wouldn't see anyone he knew here tonight besides Castiel.

Dean chugged the shots, one after another. Castiel watched him, looking concerned.

"Dean, we've been here for three minutes. Slow it down." Castiel said.

"That's why I'm switching to beer for the next 10 minutes. Two shots, beer, two shots, beer, and so on, until I can't fucking feel anything." Dean muttered.

"What can I do?" Castiel asked.

"Unless you have the cure for crazy, then there is nothing for you to do besides watch me drink and make sure I make it home without dying." Dean said callously.

That's exactly what Castiel did for the next two hours. They didn't talk. Dean just drank. Dean rarely drank to get smashed. He had the tolerance of an elephant, something that came from his alcoholic genes or maybe from the simple fact that he had started drinking at the ripe old age of 12 and had built it up over the last 14 years. These days, he drank because he enjoyed the taste of alcohol and because sometimes, he just needed a buzz to chase away his pain. He never did this. He hadn't done it in many months, anyway. Tonight though, it was a different story. By his fifth shot and second beer, he was feeling loose, much better than he had when he was moping in his apartment.

"You know I noticed about you last night?" He said, his words starting to slur.

"What, Dean?" Castiel said warily.

"You—are fucking—like—the cutest thing ever. Okay. Don't get me wrong. I-love—love you, Cas. I love you, man. But Jesus Christ, you cry _a lot!_ " He said, pounding back another shot. "I mean, come on! How often do you cry? Like probably three or four times a week. It doesn't even faze me anymore!"

"I do not cry that much." Castiel said sharply.

"You are like a chick, Cas. You snivel and you sob and you give me the silent treatment. It's fucking… well… it's like dating a chick."

"I am not a chick." Castiel said, glaring at him.

"You and fucking Sam. You're both like girls. When Sam's mad at me, he pulls the same fucking shit." Dean said, laughing. He knew he was starting to get sloppy. He didn't care.

"I think you should slow it down with the shots." Castiel said. "I'm not going to get mad over this, because I know you're just drunk and sad, but at least slow it down."

"I have a better idea. Why don't _you_ slow it down with the weeping and the bitching? God, I am so fucking sick of it. You and Sam, always crying, wah wah wah. Poor crazy Sam. No one gives a shit about me. I had to give up four years of my life to take care of that fucker." He said.

"Dean-" Castiel started.

Dean interrupted. "I was 18 and my parents were gone, you know? Gone all of the fucking time, trying to save their fucked up, doomed marriage. I had to stay home and take care of _their_ son. But at least then, Sam was normal. He wasn't a fucking lunatic. When I turned 20, dude started seeing demons. Like literal fucking demons. Can you even imagine that? Isn't that kinda perfect though? A crazy guy seeing 'his demons'?" He said, slapping the table, laughing a little too hard.

"Dean, do you feel better? Is the alcohol making you feel better? You came here to forget Sam, yet he's all you've talked about since we've arrived at this… lovely… establishment." Castiel said.

"Shut up, Cas. Go get me a beer." He said, waving his arm at the bar.

"I'll be back." Castiel said.

Dean just sat there, staring at the wall behind him. "Fucking Sam." He muttered. "Fucking crazy Sam."

Castiel came back a minute later with a cup of ice water. "Drink this." He said.

"I told you to get me a beer, not water."

"Either you drink this, or I'm leaving." He said. "You can get as drunk as you want, but I don't want you vomiting all over me because you're dehydrated."

"Fuck off, Cas." Dean sputtered. He took a huge drink of the water anyway.

"Dean, honestly, is doing this making you feel better?" He asked.

"Fuck yeah. Of course it is. I don't get all weird like you do. I just loosen up." Dean said.

"You loosen up? I get weird?" Castiel said, as if he were entertaining a dog.

"You get all lovey-dovey most of the time. One or two drinks and you're so cuddly. But sometimes man, you get pissed. You hulk out. It's hilarious because you're so itty bitty, but you seriously fucking hulk out. Ya know? It's crazy." He slurred, shaking his head.

Castiel shook his head. "Dean, there's a reason I don't do what you're doing right now. I don't drown my sorrows in liquor for a reason. I can't handle it. I get angry at everyone and everything."

"Why? Because of your pathetic, fucked up life? Well, newsflash, Cas, we both have fucked up lives. My dad's a drunk who hit my mom all the time when I was a kid. My mom is a weak bitch who disappears when things get tough. My brother is in the goddamn mental ward right now. You don't see me crying in the bathroom or shoving girls or destroying my belongings. Get the fuck over it. Grow up." He said coldly.

When he said that, Castiel looked like he'd just been slapped. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"Right now? Yeah, that's what I think of you. Of both of you. I'm sick of crazy fuckers. I'm sick of having to take care of you and Sam and my mom. You know what? Get over it. Spank your inner moppet, whatever, but move on and quit expecting me to pick up the pieces when you fall apart." Dean said, shaking his head.

"No one expects you to clean up the pieces." Castiel said.

Dean could hear Castiel's voice quivering, but at this moment, he didn't care. If Sam appeared in front of him right now, screaming about demons, losing his shit, Dean would just smash a bottle over his head to knock him out cold. _He didn't care._

Dean chugged down the rest of the water and staggered up to the bar and ordered another shot. He swigged it and then stumbled back to the table.

Castiel was still sitting there, which actually surprised Dean, even in his drunken stupor. Castiel was biting his lip and his eye was twitching slightly, like it had the first night that Dean had been over to his apartment.

"You got a nervous tic or something, Cas?" He asked, laughing at himself.

"Why are you being so mean?" He whispered.

"I'm mean? I'm the nicest guy in the universe." Dean slurred. "So fucking nice to put up with this bullshit."

Castiel's eye quit twitching when he said that. With that, even though Dean was trashed, he could tell that Castiel was going from hurt to angry. Dean was suddenly worried he'd hulk out.

"Right now, you're not putting up with _anything._ You're just sitting here, completely trashed, insulting one of the people who cares about you the most. Your mother _,_ or 'that weak bitch,' as you call her, is with Sam. You're 2000 miles away, wasted in some dive bar in the middle of nowhere. You won't even talk to him. You're not doing ANYTHING special right now." Castiel snarled.

Dean stared at him, open-mouthed. He had the sudden urge to slug Castiel, who was normally so meek and so gracious just to be in Dean's presence. In some corner of his mind, a sober part that was currently glazed over with whiskey, he knew Castiel was right, but right now, he just wanted to punch him. He was seeing red.

"Get out of my sight." Dean hissed.

"You want to hit me, don't you? I know how guys like you are, Dean. I grew up in homes surrounded by guys like you. You repress and you run, because that's all you know how to do. Anyone gets close, anyone questions you, and you either run away or you throw punches."

"I don't run. I watched over that kid for four years, Castiel, you don't know what that was like."

"You've been here for five years. You haven't been home in two years. You can't claim sainthood forever, Dean."

"Get the fuck away from me, before I beat the living shit out of you, you fucking pansy." Dean bellowed.

"You're coming with me. You want to try to hit me? Go ahead. It's not like I haven't had worse. Believe me, I have had much bigger, scarier guys than you threaten me before."

By now, people were starting to stare at them.

Dean just let out a strangled cry and stomped out of the bar. He tripped on the way out and someone yelled "GOOD GOING, CASANOVA!" which was hilarious to him for some reason, because of Castiel's name and because of the entire situation. He plodded up the road, laughing and almost crying at the same time, trying to pretend Castiel wasn't behind him. About one block into the walk, Dean felt his insides turn over. He stopped at a telephone pole and bent over and threw up all of the whiskey and beer he'd drowned his sorrows in that night.

Castiel, of course, was standing right behind him, watching him retch. When it was all out, he felt him reach over and hesitantly rub his back.

"Did it help?" Castiel asked.

Dean just shook his head. "It never does."


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Dean felt like Satan himself had crawled out of the pit and repeatedly screamed "GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!" at him while simultaneously using his intestines as a punching bag.

"Christ. I'm never drinking again." He groaned to himself. His eyes were still closed. He was afraid if he opened them that the light would make him puke again. He never remembered to shut his blinds after a night of hard drinking.

"Probably not a bad idea." A voice beside him.

Dean opened his eyes and thankfully, it wasn't too bright. Someone had remembered to draw the curtains and blinds the night before.

"Cas, I'm an asshole." Dean said automatically.

The previous night was hazy, but he remembered most of it. What he remembered most of all was being unnecessarily cruel to Castiel and then vomiting on the side of the road three times during the treacherously long walk back to his apartment.

"You were an asshole. You were a giant fucking spiteful, angry, whiny asshole." Castiel muttered.

"I'm really sorry."

"I know."

"You're not freaking out?" Dean asked. He automatically regretted the words as they came out of his mouth.

Castiel tensed up beside him and then rolled over, so he was facing Dean.

"I was freaking out. At first. Then I remembered how upset you were, how fucking wasted you were, and I knew you didn't mean it." He said carefully.

"Really?"

"Really. I know you don't believe me, but I've told you, time and time again, I'm not going to break. I've been through too much to let a few nasty comments from my drunken boyfriend send me over the edge."

Dean thought about the night Castiel had destroyed his apartment, shoved Jo, and then broken down at the park by the ocean. He thought about everything Castiel had gone through, the way he casually mentioned being institutionalized. All of this had made Dean so afraid of sending him back to that place. He was so afraid that he was incredibly careful with him, treating him like a porcelain doll.

Words from the night before spilled into his head.

_I have had much bigger, scarier guys than you threaten me before_

Dean didn't say it out loud, but he was realizing that maybe him being an asshole wasn't something that really bothered Castiel all that much.

_I grew up in homes surrounded by guys like you._

To Cas, he was a "guy like that."

That hurt him more than he'd ever admit.

In a way though, he was glad that Castiel had stood up to him, because it was finally starting to sink in that his Castiel wasn't made of glass. More than likely, he was made of stone. He'd proven that to Dean the night before. Just like he'd proven it to him time and time again just by existing, just by smiling, despite all of the terrible things that had happened to him.

"Dean?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just hungover." He muttered.

"Your mom called." Castiel said, as if it were an afterthought. "Don't be mad, I tried to wake you up, but you were passed out."

"Cas…" He warned. Dean felt his walls coming back up, he felt the familiar anger that always came over him when someone nosed into his family business.

"Dean." He said simply.

"Cas… why didn't you try harder to wake me up?" He groaned. "Christ, what time is it?"

"It's only 10 and it's Saturday. She called this morning around 8. I tried to wake you up. I even slapped you and nothing." He said. "Anyway, I thought you'd like to know that your brother is lucid."

Dean felt an enormous sense of relief wash over him. A portion of his hangover even seemed to dissipate.

"But… it's only been a day or so." Dean said, mostly to himself.

"Your mom wouldn't tell me much, understandably. She just said that he's lucid and that they moved him down to 'tier 1' which I assume is better than 'tier 2.'"

"Thank God." Dean breathed. "Cas, tier 2 is where they put the real crazy people. Like, psychotics live there. If Sammy's in tier 1, that means he'll be out by tomorrow or the next day. Thank god."

"I told her that you'd call this afternoon and that you'd talk to Sam." Castiel said.

"Cas!" Dean cried.

"You owe me, Winchester. After being such a dick to me last night and then puking on my favorite shoes, you owe me, and talking to your brother, facing him, is how you're going to repay me."

"I PUKED ON YOUR SHOES?"

"Yep. You did. So, will you talk to your brother?" Castiel said.

Dean groaned again. "Yes. Goddamn, when did you start getting all bossy?"

"Since I realized I could boss you around." Castiel said, his voice actually filled with some humor. "Now, go take a shower, you're disgusting."

Not disagreeing with him, Dean did as he was told.

Dean came out of the bathroom, feeling much more human, and much better than he had while lying in bed. The hangover was still creeping at the edge of his stomach and his temples, but at least Satan was gone. He found Castiel in the living room, drinking a cup of coffee and sketching.

"Cas, I am really sorry. Please believe that." He said, sitting down next to him.

"Dean, it's okay." Castiel said softly, not looking up from his sketchbook.

"What are you drawing?"

"You." He said simply.

"Lemme see."

"No!" Castiel said, closing the sketchbook and holding it tightly against his chest.

"Aw, why not? Afraid I'll be pissed?" Dean said, trying to be good-natured, even though he was a little offended.

Castiel had never made a huge deal about him seeing his art before. He had actually gone through Castiel's sketchbooks a few times when he was at the apartment by himself or when Castiel was sleeping.

"My sketchbooks… they're private." Castiel said carefully.

Dean gulped. He hadn't known that. He decided not to mention browsing through them as if they were an issue of Busty Asian Beauties.

"…and it's not complete yet." He finished.

Dean thought about bringing up Castiel talking to his mother like they were best friends, but decided against it. He'd picked enough fights the night before.

"All of them are private?" He asked, fishing for information.

"Not all of them, but it's like a diary, Dean. You wouldn't want someone reading your diary."

"I don't keep a diary. I don't have a vagina." He joked.

Castiel made a face. "You're ridiculous." He said, smiling a little bit. "Your preconceived notions about men and women have always amused me, especially considering the company you keep."

"What do you mean by that?" He asked ingenuously.

"You're always comparing Jo and Charlie to men, even though they are both 'lipstick lesbians' as they say and last night you compared me to a woman because I occasionally show emotion. You also seem to constantly fear being seen as a woman just because you're in a relationship with another man, which is actually quite ironic, if you think about it." Castiel said nonchalantly.

"Quit analyzing me, Freud."

Dean reached over and extricated the sketchbook from his hands, and then he tackled him, because, hell, tackling him was masculine thing to do, right? Castiel squealed and writhed beneath him in a way that made Dean forget about everything they were just discussing. He leaned over and kissed Castiel on the spot beneath his ear, moving his mouth down the edge of his face to his throat. He nipped at his collarbone and then pulled away and waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Dean! That's not fair! We were having a serious, intellectual…" He whined.

Dean kissed him again, while lightly pushing the front of his shirt up to around his chest. He moved his mouth down to Castiel's abdomen, which was so flat and pale. He kissed each one of his hipbones, which always seemed to jut so prominently and leave purple bruises on his inner thighs. At first he'd been surprised by those bruises because Castiel seemed so frail, almost like he'd blow away if you breathed too hard. It didn't seem like someone like Castiel could leave marks like that. They didn't surprise him anymore. Everything about Castiel did though.

"Cas." He breathed. "Cas, I love you so fucking much."

"Are you talking to my crotch?" Castiel murmured, seemingly unaware of the miniature revelations Dean had been having all morning.

Dean looked up at him and just smiled. "Not yet."

He skimmed his hands up the side of his body, fingers ghosting his ribs and his chest. Castiel's body twitched involuntarily as Dean kissed the pliant skin beneath his navel.

"Not fair." He groaned. "You know what that light touch does to me."

Dean unzipped his jeans. "Hello Castiel's crotch." He said.

"You are such a fucking—OH GOD." He yelped as Dean moved his mouth even lower.

Afterwards, they lay naked on the couch, limbs twined. Dean had to admit he had grown rather fond of cuddling, at least for short periods of time. Post-coital bliss was a form of unmeasured happiness for him.

"Thanksgiving break starts… well… I guess it started for me today since I haven't gone to class the last two days." Dean said.

"I'm sorry. Should I have made you go?" Castiel asked, not really seeming like he cared too much.

"Nah. I've been a saint since I met you. The Saint of Not Skipping Class." He murmured.

"What do you want to do for the next week and a half?" He asked.

"You mentioned Washington. It's beautiful there. We could go for a day or two."

"Well, yeah, the University of Washington. I'm really considering their grad program. I was thinking about going up for a day and checking out the campus." Dean said.

Castiel tensed underneath him. The subject of Dean leaving Plainville, of leaving Oregon all together was not something they had discussed too much. Dean hadn't wanted to discuss it. He knew at some point they would have to, but he knew now wasn't the right time.

"Mount Rainier is cool." Dean said. "Have you ever been?"

"No. I haven't really left this town in the last two years." Cas admitted.

"Me neither." Dean said, chuckling.

"Let's go to Mount Rainier, then. We can spend a day in Seattle, get a hotel by the Space Needle, and then go check out Mount Rainier." Dean said.

"Sounds perfect." Castiel said.

They lay there for awhile, riding the post-orgasm high and finally Castiel spoke.

"I could come with you." He whispered. "To Seattle. You're not going right away until next winter, right?"

"Yeah, Cas. Not until next winter. We have time. Don't worry."

"I could come with you." He repeated in sort of a vague, far away voice.

Dean realized Castiel was leaving him, retreating into corners of his mind that Dean didn't fully understand.

He shook him a little bit and gripped his arm firmly around his narrow shoulders.

"Come back to me, Cas. I'm right here." He said.

Castiel wasn't stone; he wasn't glass; he was driftwood. Dean knew that he was too. They were keeping each other from drifting out to sea.


	14. Chapter 14

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Dean asked.

"Dean, it'll be fine. I wouldn't have come if I weren't ready. Are _you_ ready?" Castiel replied.

"I have to be, no matter how I feel." Dean muttered.

Dean and Castiel were parked across the street from Mary Winchester's house. Dean wasn't ready to go in there.

Thanksgiving break had been wonderful, three days spent in bed, doing nothing but staying in bed, fucking, eating take out, and then fucking some more, followed by two glorious days in Washington hiking around Seattle and Mount Rainier, then three days of debauchery with Jo and Charlie on the empty campus. Sam had gotten out of the hospital the day they arrived in Seattle and Dean allowed his mind to be at ease for once in his life. Finals had come and gone, much easier than Dean thought possible thanks to Castiel persistently forcing him to study in lieu of sleeping or sex. Dean had aced them and now he was one semester away from graduating.

Mary Winchester's house was ice to the face after a few weeks of bliss. The entire drive from the Topeka airport had felt _wrong_ because he was in a rental car, and not in the Impala. Dean had almost driven the 2000 miles in his beloved car, just to give himself more time to prepare for the week and a half they would be spending in Lawrence with Sam and Mary, but Castiel had insisted they fly to save time, money, and mileage on Dean's "baby." In the end, he had relented. He still felt wrong though, strange to be sitting in front of this house for the first time in two years. He just wasn't ready.

"We could go see Bobby and Ellen first." Dean said.

"Dean, what are you always telling me? Be strong for me? Well, right now, I need that from you. Be strong for me, yourself, and for Sam." Castiel said.

"Goddamnit, Cas." He muttered. He leaned over and gave him a quick, discreet kiss, because he knew he'd have to watch the dude-on-dude PDA around Kansas, which was so damn conservative.

"Let's go. We've been sitting here for 10 minutes. I'm sure they've seen us." Castiel said.

Dean groaned and pulled the rental car into the driveway. They unloaded the bags from the trunk, Castiel struggling with his trunk, having packed far too much for his second trip out of state in two years. Dean chuckled. Castiel had refused to let him carry his luggage at the airport and he wasn't about to start now.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of how endearing Castiel was. He reached over to knock, but Sam opened it before he got the chance.

"Dean!" He screamed, like a big girl. "Holy shit! Dean!"

Sam reached over and hugged him, literally lifting him off the ground. Dean choked for air. In the years of seeing Sam as a victim, he had forgotten how tall and strong his brother was.

"Sammy! Sam. Can't. Breathe." He choked.

Sam put him down and helped him and Castiel bring their suitcases into the house. Dean looked around. The house, looked completely different than the last time he had been home. Nothing was familiar to him except the photos on the walls and the people living in the house.

"Oh God, Dean. I can't believe you're here. It is so good to see you." Sam said, his voice breaking. "I have missed the shit out of you."

Dean took in his little brother. Sam was wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and he looked more like the Sam he remembered from his past, the Sam that wasn't sick. He was grinning ear to ear and his eyes were bright. He looked almost normal too, like he was actually healthy. His gaze was steady, he'd lost some weight, and he looked happy, like unbelievably ecstatic. His hair was still too long, but Dean could deal with that.

"Sammy, you look good." He said carefully.

"Thanks. They evened out the doses and it's done wonders. Around 7pm, I'll start getting hazy, but I'm not hugely fat anymore." He explained.

Dean tapped the side of his head, "How's it going up here?" He asked.

"It's better. I promise, it's better." Sam said, staring at his feet.

"Where's mom?" He asked, looking around.

Sam smiled nervously. "She just went to the store to get some beer for you. She knew you would be here soon. I promise, I'm okay alone now. She's been able to leave me alone since a week or two after I… got out of the hospital."

Dean clasped his brother's shoulder. "You don't need to explain, Sam. I trust you guys."

Dean glanced at Castiel who was standing behind them, looking anxious. Dean was relieved that he didn't look like he was about to vomit, which Dean had thought might be the case.

"Sam, I'd like you to meet Castiel. Castiel, this is Sammy, my little brother, and the bane of my existence." He said fondly.

Castiel froze when he said the second part, because he knew that in many ways, Sam _was_ the bane of Dean's existence. He relaxed when Sam reached over and good naturedly punched Dean on the shoulder.

"Nice to meet you, Castiel." Sam said, reaching over and shaking his hand heartily.

"N-n-ice to finally meet you in the flesh." Castiel said, his eyes widening. He bit his lip nervously and stared at the wall behind Sam.

Dean chuckled. How was it that Castiel, who by all accounts, was a functioning member of society, more awkward than his batshit brother?

"No need to be shy, Cas." Dean said. "We're dangerously open here."

"That's n-n-ice." Castiel sputtered.

Sam just laughed and Dean was suddenly grateful that his brother still had his social graces.

Dean took their bags to the spare bedroom upstairs. He planned to make some noise about sleeping on the couch, even though Sam and Mary knew what was going on between him and Castiel. Dean thought about how strange it was that he hadn't been home in so long, and when he finally did come back, he'd brought his boyfriend along for moral support. It was going to be a strange holiday. Dean was here with a dude, his brother seemed less crazy than usual, and his mother hadn't run away in years.

Dean came downstairs and found Castiel, Sam and Mary sitting in the living room. There was a pizza sitting on the coffee table and a 12 pack of beers sitting on the floor. Dean suddenly loved his mother far more than he thought possible.

"Mom." He said quietly.

Mary smiled and stood up. She came over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I've missed you." She whispered in his ear. "I'm so glad you're here, baby."

Dean felt a few tears spring to his eyes. He couldn't believe he hadn't hugged his mother in two years.

"I missed you too." He whispered, holding her close.

After a seemingly long time, she released him.

"I got pepperoni pizza and Blue Moon." She said, motioning at the spread.

"You're a saint, mom." He said.

Dean sat down on the couch next to Castiel, who was clutching a beer tightly, as if it would fly away if his knuckles weren't white. He clearly was notready for all of this. Dean felt pity for him and it wasn't for the reasons he had imagined during their drive here. Dean leaned in to him.

"Cas, baby, you can relax. It's okay. We're okay." He whispered.

Castiel nodded slightly and loosened the grip on his beer.

"So, Castiel was just telling us about how glad he is to be done with grading finals. Dean, how did your finals go?" Mary asked, acting like a concerned parent, as if she actually had time to worry about Dean's grades.

"I rocked them." Dean said, opening a beer and shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth. "A's and B's. Thanks to Cas, I ended up with a B- in that god forsaken political science I told you about."

"What's next for you?" Sam asked. Sam was always asking him about school and what he'd be doing when he was graduating. He was curious, because he had never had the chance to go to college.

"The capstone/internship class I told you guys about last week. The Advanced Study of Molecular Biology of Human Disease" is the overly long and sciencey name for it. I'll be working at the hospital a few days a week. It's the last one." He said.

"Dean is very excited about it." Castiel said, his voice still a little shaky.

"That's wonderful, honey. I am so proud of you." Mary said, smiling at him.

"Have you started applying to grad schools yet?" Sam asked.

"I took the GRE a few weeks ago. I had the scores sent to a few schools, but I haven't started applying yet." Dean said carefully, glancing at Castiel. Dean leaving for graduate school was a touchy subject between the two of them.

"That's great, honey." Mary said, smiling at him. "So, Castiel, is your family disappointed that you're not with them this Christmas?"

Castiel choked on his beer. Dean suddenly felt like the biggest moron on the planet. It was just now occurring to him that he had never told his mother that Castiel didn't have any family and that's one of the reasons he was spending Christmas with the Winchester family.

"Um, uh, I don't, um, I don't have any family." Castiel said in a low voice.

Castiel's eyes began to dart, like they did when he got extraordinarily uncomfortable. Dean felt cold. This was bad.

Sam was staring at Castiel, pity in his eyes. Dean's eyes met his and Sam just gave him a little nod, encouraging him to speak up. Dean had forgotten that he was able to communicate with his brother without speaking, just like he was with Jo, Charlie, and Castiel.

"Dean, tell him he's wrong." Sam said.

Dean froze and realized what Sam wanted him to say.

"Cas, you've got family." Dean said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. "I'm your family, Jo and Charlie are like your family and maybe mom and Sam will be too."

"We are so glad you're here." Mary said smoothly. "I can tell that you've been excellent for Dean and you are more than welcome here."

"Thank you." Castiel breathed. His eyes quit darting. "Thank you for inviting me into your home, Ms. Winchester."

"Please, Castiel, call me Mary." She said, smiling warmly at him.

"Don't ever call me Mr. Winchester, either. I'm not that old yet." Sam quipped.

Castiel relaxed. Dean shot his brother a thankful glance. Sam just nodded at him. Why was Sam handling this better than he was?

The four of them sat around the living room for awhile, sharing stories about Oregon and Sam and Dean's childhood. Dean was embarrassed by a few of them, but he truly felt more at home than he ever thought possible. Mary went to bed around 8:30, obviously happy to not have to work a night shift. Around 10:00, Castiel mentioned that he was going to go upstairs and call someone, and Dean took that to mean his foster parents, the ones that were in Michigan and had helped Castiel so much after his horrific experience in his childhood. For the first time in as long as Dean could remember, he and Sam were alone.

"I like him." Sam said as soon as Castiel was upstairs. "He's funny and sharp and clearly madly in love with you. He's a little… well, he's a little strange, but I guess we're used to that around here?"

"He's been through a lot." Dean said. "And Sammy? Uh, thanks for… well, bailing me out there earlier. I can't believe I didn't mention his whole… not having a family thing."

Sam looked curious, but to his credit, he didn't ask.

"Does he make you happy?" Sam asked.

Dean thought for a second and then nodded. "Yeah, he does."

"Good. Someone should." Sam said, smiling at him.

"Sammy, don't say that. You have no fucking idea how good it is to see you again. You and mom." Dean said.

"I know it hasn't been easy being related to me." Sam said. "But Dean, I'm doing really well. After what happened in November, they adjusted the meds and I'm pretty much back to normal again. That whole thing, well, it could have been worse."

"I know, Sammy. I'm just happy you're you again. I just worry about you. That's all. I love you and I'm damn happy you're my brother." Dean said.

They were quiet for a few moments.

"I'm hoping that I can move out soon." Sam said.

"Sammy—" he started.

"Dean, I'm an adult." Sam said. "I can take care of myself. I'm seeing the psychiatrist twice a week now, getting blood tests out the ass, taking my medication like it's my goddamn job. You and mom shouldn't have to jump over hoops to take care of me.'

"It's not like that." He said helplessly, even though Dean thought that it was like that.

"I'm not a moron, Dean. I know how hard it was. You ran away as soon as you could, 2000 miles away for Christ's sake. I want you and mom to live your own lives." He said.

"Sam, mom and I love you. We don't mind helping you."

"Then why haven't you been home in two years?" Sam said, his voice growing dark.

Dean couldn't answer. Sam saw everything that was going on in front of him, saw how Dean and his mom behaved toward him, always taking care of him, always treating him an invalid.

"Because I'm an idiot." Dean said. "Sam, you're a part of my life. I want you to be a part of my life."

"Then come home once in awhile, you jerk." Sam said, sending him a smile to show that they were okay.

"I forgot how goddamn intuitive you are." Dean said.

"I want my own life too, Dean." Sam said suddenly. "I want to go to school, I want to date, and I want to get a job. I want to live with this disease, not have the disease live with me."

"You will, Sam. I promise. It just takes time, you know?"

"How long though? How long until I can make my own choices? How long until I can get on a bus and go to the grocery store without mommy accompanying me? I just want to lead my own life, just like I want you to have your own." Sam said.

"Sam…" He began. "Castiel has some issues. Like serious, bad issues. He's not schizophrenic, but the dude's been through a lot. More than I can tell you and more than I can even imagine. Needless to say, it's left him with some war wounds. For a long time and even now, he was…"

"Crazy?" Sam supplied.

"Well, yeah. I shouldn't use that word. I shouldn't think of you guys like that. But my point is, Cas is doing his own thing now. He's working, he has good friends, he goes out and does fun things… he has me… and it just took some time. It still takes time." Dean said.

"So if your crazy little boyfriend can do it, so can I?" Sam said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dean shook his head. "I didn't mean to compare you guys. It's totally different. What I'm saying is that Castiel has shown me that it's possible to… live with it… like you want to. It's possible. I admit, I didn't think that before. I know that I am a dick for thinking that, but I'm beginning to see it differently." Dean finished.

He had never said that out loud, but Dean was beginning to see things differently. Just seeing Sam, talking to him now, hearing about how quickly he had bounced back from his last relapse, was showing Dean that Sam was more than a burden, more than a sick person. Dean had thought about him in those terms for so long that it was hard to see Sam as an individual still capable of living a full and happy life.

"Dean, I appreciate that. I really do. More than you can even know." Sam said laughing. "You have to realize though, you don't always have to take care of me, and you don't always have to take care of him. We aren't your responsibility." He said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What makes you say that?

"I see how you look at him, with such worry in your eyes. I heard you whisper 'you okay baby?' at least four times in the last four hours and I know how you see me. I might occasionally be delusional, but I'm not blind or stupid." Sam said.

"I care about you, Sam. I care about him. That's all. I just worry, is all."

"You can't save everyone, Dean." Sam said. "Just showing your face every now and then, just being there, just the simple act of NOT RUNNING is enough for me. I'm sure it's enough for him too."

"I'm not running."

"I know. I'm grateful for that. You and mom, I just love that you're here with me now, that you care about me. It's enough for me, Dean. That said though, you have to start seeing me as an adult. When that finally does happen, I'd appreciate seeing your face more than once every two years."

"I'm sorry about that." Dean said, feeling all sorts of terrible.

"Castiel and I might be crazy, but you're the weird one, Dean. You have a martyr complex, yet you also tend to flee. That's has to eat you up inside."

"Quit being smarter than me." Dean whined.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

That night, after pretending he was going to sleep on the couch, Dean creeped into the spare bedroom. Castiel was sitting in bed with the light on, reading a book.

"Dean, you don't need to pretend to sleep on the couch. We're not children. Your family is perfectly aware that we have a sexual relationship." Castiel said without looking up from his book.

"Shut up." Dean said, crawling into bed next to him.

Castiel took off his glasses and set the book on the bedside table. He turned to Dean and gave him that smile that always made him so weak in the knees. Dean pulled him in close, giving him a deep kiss on the mouth.

"Mmmm, I was dying down there." Dean murmured, cradling Castiel's face in his hands. "Being in my mom's house with the guy I'm sleeping with makes me so hot for some reason. I feel naughty, like a 16-year-old who's sneaking in her boyfriend. I almost went outside and threw pebbles at the window."

"You are ridiculous." Castiel said, laughing.

Dean curled up against him. "You are wonderful." He sighed.

"I am?"

"Yes, you dope. I never would have come back here if it weren't for you. I'm so goddamn happy I did."

"Things are going well?"

"Yes. Very well. I don't know why I waited so long. I'm such an asshole."

"You're not an asshole." Castiel said, kissing him again. "Well, sometimes you are, but even then, you're _my_ asshole."

"Keep talking like that and we won't christen this house tonight." Dean murmured, tangling his fingers through Castiel's hair.

Castiel growled and straddled him. Despite his meek appearance and initial shyness, he was actually often the more aggressive one in their relationship, at least in the bedroom. Dean moaned as Castiel nipped at his earlobe and trailed hot little kisses down the side of his face, actually biting his collarbone.

"Shirt. Off. Now." Castiel ordered.

Dean pulled off his shirt and Castiel sucked and bit at his neck, while grinding his narrow hips into Dean's, and he was lost to the feeling. He didn't even care that his brother was in the room next door. Somehow he knew Sam would put up with it.


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, Dean found himself in the awkward position of introducing his boyfriend to his father figure.

Bobby Singer was Jo's real father and the Winchester brothers' surrogate father. Meeting him, it was easy to see where Jo got her sense of humor and confidence. Unlike her father, Jo was 5'2" and maybe weighed 115 pounds soaking wet, while Bobby was 6 feet of grey hair, perpetual gruffness, and sardonic humor. Dean had known him since he was four, and while knew the man wasn't capable of harming a fly, Bobby had always intimidated him. For this reason, he was more nervous about introducing Castiel to him than he'd been about introducing him to anyone else.

"Bobby's great." Sam assured Castiel. "He'll mess with you a lot, maybe call you names you don't understand, but don't worry, he'll love you."

"Yeah, Cas, don't you worry. Bobby and Ellen are like a second set of parents to us. They might seem a bit rough when you first meet them, but they're just like Jo." Dean said.

"I'm not sure that's encouraging, comparing them to Jo." Sam said, glancing at Dean.

"I wasn't actually nervous about meeting them until you said that." Castiel muttered.

Dean was driving them town to Bobby and Ellen's house, where they were meeting the entire Singer family for brunch. Mary had opted not to come because Bobby was constantly harassing her about filing divorce papers. Dean agreed with him.

"How often do you see the Singers, Sam?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

"Once or twice a week. Ellen actually said she could get me a job at Harvelle's, now that I'm out of the hospital." Sam said cautiously.

Dean didn't respond. Dean was thinking that Ellen would hire Sam at the pub she managed because she knew him and no one else would hire him. Once again, he felt awful.

"That's great, Sammy. What would you be doing?" He said as cheerfully as he could.

"Bussing, maybe serving. I worked at Applebees for awhile, so I think it'd be pretty easy. I need to save some money."

"That's admirable." Castiel spoke up. "I once worked as a barista. I lasted a week. I abhor customer service."

"It's not admirable to be a busboy." Sam said, his voice dry. "It's easy money and there aren't many places I can get a job."

Dean glanced at Castiel in the mirror. He looked embarrassed. Dean caught his eye and winked.

"Are you going to do that the entire time he's here?" Sam asked. "Wink at him when you think I'm not looking?"

"Shut up." Dean said, his face heating up. He took a swig of coffee from his travel mug to hide the blush. He had _really_ forgotten how intuitive and observant his brother was.

"Also, I heard you guys having sex last night. Dean, I could hear you _moaning._ Seriously, try to keep it down tonight, for my sake, my stomach's sake, and my fragile sanity's sake." Sam said.

Castiel's eyes widened and he turned purple. Dean choked on his coffee and almost had to pull over.

Sam just grinned. Little shit.

When they arrived at the Singer house, Dean still hadn't pulled himself together. He was suddenly imagining Jo and Sam exchanging stories about him and Castiel and laughing at them. He could just imagine it.

_I could hear him moaning, Jo! I almost barfed! The little one, he giggled the entire time!_

_Once I walked in and Dean was TIED UP. He insisted it was a onetime thing and demanded the key I made to his apartment! Oh, and did I tell you about the fishnets and the speedo?_

Dean was almost convinced this was going to be the most humiliating brunch he'd ever attended at the Singer house.

Ellen opened the door before he knocked, just like Sam had the day before.

"Lawrence's great son! He has returned!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him in a huge hug. "Bobby! Ash! Get your asses in here! Dean's here! He's brought Sammy and that skinny jailbait kid Jo told us about!"

Yep. Most humiliating brunch ever.

Bobby and Ash came sauntering in. Dean almost died when he saw Ash. He hadn't seen the kid in two years. He was 21 now and had somehow grown a couple of inches in height and packed on an unreasonable amount of muscle since Dean had last seen him. He'd shaved his awful rat tail, put on some muscle, and Dean could almost see him as attractive. He was relieved that Bobby and Ellen looked the same.

"Nice for you to come back, fucker." Ash said, grinning at him. "Hey, Sam."

"Don't call him, fucker, Ash. That's rude." Ellen said, as if referring to Cas as 'jailbait' was tactful.

"Anyway, he's an idjit, you know that. Dean-o, good to see you, boy!" Bobby said. He came over and gave Dean what could be described as a "bear hug."

"Oh man, it is good to see you guys. Jesus, Ash. You grew like a foot." Dean said, recovering from the barrage of hugs.

"A lot can happen in TWO YEARS." Ash said, emphasizing the second part of the sentence.

"Yeah, you're not a little punk anymore, are you buddy? Hey, did you ever get to second base with Rhonda Hurley?" Dean jeered, grinning at him.

Now Ash was purple. The boys of Lawrence all knew what Rhonda Hurley, Lawrence's legendary cougar (who was actually Dean's age) made them do.

"Enough! I don't want to hear about my brother doing such things!" Jo said, sauntering into the room.

She grinned at them. The Singer family all had the same smirk. Dean hadn't realized how much he'd missed the collective sneer.

"Now, who is this fine specimen?" Ellen asked, referring to Castiel. "Jo, this your new boyfriend?"

Jo just continued grinning. Always cool under pressure when it came to her mother's veiled, yet good natured, homophobia.

"Guys, this is my buddy, Cas. He's spending the holidays with us in Lawrence." Dean said.

Castiel looked terrified, but what else was new? Even Dean could admit the Singer family was a little bit too much at first, even though they always ended up making you feel welcome.

"Nice to meet you, Cas!" Ellen said jovially. She patted him on the shoulder heartily.

"I'm Bobby Singer, this here is my lovely wife Ellen, and the one with the idiotic tattoo on his bicep is our son Ash. I believe you've had the misfortune of meeting Jo already." Bobby said, reaching out and shaking his hand. Bobby nodded to Dean. "You keeping this idjit in line?"

"Idjit?" Cas squeaked. "Is that a colloquial way to say idiot?"

Bobby just burst out laughing and clasped Castiel's shoulder. "I'm gonna like you!" He crowed.

Ellen herded them into the kitchen where an absolute feast of waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, and fruit. They sat around the Singers' huge dinner table and Dean knew, without a doubt, that he was home.

Brunch wasn't as embarrassing as Dean thought it would be. No references were made to Jo's preference for girls or Dean's current preference for Castiel. No one mentioned schizophrenia or Sam's recent brush with the psych ward. Bobby and Ellen didn't ask why Castiel was in Lawrence, which made it apparent to Dean that Jo had said something to them about it, thus proving yet again, that she was smarter than him. They talked, laughed, and told stories for two hours. Castiel was actually fitting in with Dean's surrogate family and Sam seemed happier than Dean had seen him in a long time. Dean wished silently that his mother was there too, but as long as John Winchester was still in her life, there wasn't room for her in the Singer house. Aside from that, things were going swimmingly, or so Dean thought.

Bobby was telling Castiel yet another yarn from the Winchester/Singer children's youth.

"You see, Cas, I used to own a salvage yard before I opened up the auto body shop. I had cars everywhere and naturally these kids turned one of my old trucks into a fort. They used to say it was perfect because it was by the creek, which they referred to as 'mud river.' For years, I didn't pay it any mind, cuz hell, they were kids! But they kept going down there, into that damn truck as teenagers! One day I went down there to check on 'em and you will never believe what I found!" Bobby said.

Dean and Jo made the same face across the table at each other. They'd heard this story so many times that it was no longer embarrassing.

"What did you find?" Castiel asked, genuinely fascinated.

"These damn idjits had been stealing my beer! For years! I find these four morons, drunk as skunks, including my 12 year old son! Jo and Dean are makin' out and he has her goddamn purple bra on his head! Sam and Ash are passed out on each other, and you can only imagine what I thought!" Bobby crowed.

"Ash still goes out there you know. He wants time alone with my purple bra." Jo interjected.

"Jo! Sick!" Ash said. "You know I only go out there to smoke—" Ash stopped before he finished the sentence, realizing he had just outed himself.

Everyone burst out laughing, including Castiel. Bobby smacked Ash on the side of the head.

"These kids are soulmates." Ellen said. "And not in a 'coupley' way. They've been friends since before they could walk and they're still thick as thieves now. Sam 'n Dean, well, I see 'em as my own!"

"It sounds like they had a wonderful childhood together." Castiel said.

"Yep. These idjits make life worth living." Bobby said affectionately. "Hell, we're family! Even when one of us disappears for two years!"

"Where'd you grow up, honey?" Ellen asked.

"Boston." Castiel said, staring into his coffee.

"Ugh, I hate the east coast! No offense, Cas, but it's so damn pretentious! I'll take Kansas any day." Bobby said.

Castiel didn't answer, so Dean answered for him.

"He agrees with you." Dean said, smiling at Bobby. He reached under the table and took Castiel's hand. "We're Pacific Northwest kinda guys now."

"Portland's cool." Ash said. "I visited Jo during sibs weekend her sophomore year and we spent some time there."

"You got any siblings?" Ellen asked.

Castiel just shook his head. He was quiet for the rest of the meal. Dean couldn't find time to ask why.

After bear hugs from Bobby and Ellen and half-made plans with Jo and Ash, Dean, Castiel and Sam were finally driving back to Mary Winchester's house. Castiel was sullen in the backseat and Dean still couldn't ask why. So he brought up the white elephant that had been in the room. The white elephant that looked like a certain blonde matronly figure in his life.

"I wish Mom could have come." Dean muttered.

"You know how Bobby is around her, Dean. It wouldn't have been comfortable for her or for us if she had come." Sam said, shaking his head.

"She needs to just finish it." He muttered.

"She'll do it when she's ready. Dad hasn't come around in weeks. He came to see me in the hospital, you know." Sam said.

Dean glanced back at Cas. "Cas, you okay if we discuss this? Sammy knows that you know about… these things."

Castiel just nodded gloomily.

"How was it?" Dean asked bitterly.

"I don't know, man. I wasn't all there. He came the day the day before they let me out. He lectured me about taking my meds, even though that wasn't… the reason for it. He gave me some movies and some car magazines, even though that's your thing, and then he left." Sam said.

"God, I fucking hate him." Dean hissed. "He doesn't even know you, Sammy."

"I know, Dean. He sucks. He's still our father though and for some reason, mom still loves him. We have to respect that. They're adults." Sam said.

"They don't act like it when they're around each other. If mom would just cut him loose, I swear, she'd be so much happier."

"I know." Sam said simply. "Do you ever talk to him?"

"It's been a year." Dean muttered.

"Jesus. Has he called you?"

"No."

"At least we have Ellen and Bobby, you know? The Singers and Mom. Dean, they're our real family. God help me, I love mom more than anyone in the world, but we'd be up shit creek without the Singers, you know." Sam said.

Dean just nodded. It was true. The Singer family had done more for him and Sam than most people realized. They'd taken him and Sam in when they were nothing more than children and their parents had left on some kind of trip that always ended up lasting a week longer than they claimed it would. When Dean was 14 and they were gone for 3 weeks, the Singers had found out and called Child Protective Services and then taken the Winchesters in yet again while the matter was sorted out. They had taken Dean and Sam shopping for school clothes when their family couldn't afford it, because Mary's eccentric, rich father dad was cutting them off again because she wouldn't leave her husband. Once, John Winchester had been drunk and Bobby had to fight him in order to keep him from taking Sam on a drunken joyride. Dean had told Bobby four years ago, the last time he was home for an extended period time, about the occasional abuse his mother suffered at the hands of his father. After that, the Singers' relationship with Mary had never been the same, but they wanted the best for her, just like Dean and Sam did. What it came down to was that John and Mary Winchester had the definition of a "toxic relationship" and Dean had wanted it over for years.

They got back to the house and it was quiet. Dean found a note from his mother saying she was going grocery shopping in order to "feed all her boys" and Dean was slightly relieved that she wasn't sitting at home, dwelling, and waiting on their return.

"I'm going to take a nap." Sam said, yawning.

"You alright, Sammy?" He asked.

"Side effects." He muttered. "I'll talk to you guys later."

Sam trampled up the stairs like the moose he was and Dean smiled. His brother was doing so well. He was doing better than Dean ever thought possible. He seemed like himself and maybe he had been all along. Dean had always thought that schizophrenia had taken his brother, but in the past 24 hours alone, Dean had realized that it more likely that it was just another part of him, a personality quirk that could be overlooked and accepted. Dean wished it hadn't taken him roughly seven years to start seeing Sam as a person again.


	16. Chapter 16

After brunch, with his mother gone and his brother asleep, Dean felt himself drawn to Castiel. For some reason, he'd felt like a cat in heat around him the last few days. He wasn't sure why. He was semi-convinced it was because he was in his childhood home again and it felt illicit, which gave him a little thrill.

Dean turned to Castiel. "I've got you alone again." He purred, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, rubbing himself against him almost obscenely. "Mmm, I don't know what it is about you the last few days, but I just want to eat you all up."

"Stop." Cas whispered. "I'm not… I'm not in the mood."

"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean asked, pulling away slowly, even though he no desire to do so.

"It's nothing." He said roughly. "It's stupid."

"Come on, Cas. You know we tell each other when we're feeling like crap now, so we don't get a repeat of our best pictures, 'Cas Shoving Jo' and 'Dean Puking on Castiel's Toms.' Out with it." Dean said.

"Can we go upstairs to your room?" Castiel asked.

Dean just nodded and led him up the stairs. They kicked off their shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Now, don't think I'm undermining what has happened to you and Sam…" Castiel started.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Cas. I promise, whatever it is that's bugging you, I won't relate it back to my own crappy life." Dean said. He knew he had a tendency to do that.

"Hearing about your childhood, the one you shared with your brother, Jo and her brother… it just kind of… I don't know. It hurt." He admitted. "Seeing the Singers, who are truly wonderful people, seeing how they were with their children and with you and Sam, that hurt too."

"Why?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

"I never had that. Any of that. I was moved so often, that any lasting relationships I could have formed were cut off at the bud. I never had a fort. I never had friends who were 'soulmates.' I never had anyone who referred to me as making their life worth living." Castiel said.

"Aw, Cas." Dean said. "Why didn't you say something?"

"And stop you from reliving wonderful parts of your life? Make Ellen and Bobby aware of how pathetic I am? No. I don't do that. I won't do that." He said, shaking his head. "I just never had a normal childhood. I never had a family. Even the Novaks, who are the best people I've ever met, I hardly can count them as family. I was far too damaged by the time they found me."

"Cas... where are you parents?" He asked. Dean had wanted to ask this question for months now, since he'd found out about Castiel's past.

He just shook his head. "I don't know. There was never a father. I tried to find my birth mother while I was in graduate school, but I couldn't. She's either dead or she's changed her name."

"You lived with your grandmother for five years? Couldn't you find her that way?"

"I tried, Dean. Believe me, I tried. All I know is that she dropped me off at a police station when I was six months old, with my grandmother's name and contact information. She refused to help the court find her. She said I was 'better off' never knowing her."

"People can do that? They can just... drop their children off?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"It's called a Safe Haven law. You can drop your children at any police station, fire station or hospital without consequence."

"That's horrible."

"No, no it's not. You don't understand. That law may have saved my life. Not that I have any clue about why she'd do it in the first place. If my grandmother was still alive… I would know by now, but unfortunately, she's not, so I don't know. I'll probably never know."

Dean just nodded. Castiel had a point. He had no idea why his mother had given him up. She could have been on drugs, Castiel could have been the product of rape, or she might have just been a bad mother. Whatever the reason was, it was probably a pretty big one. Dean didn't press the issue.

"Do you have any pictures of her?"

"One. Just one. My grandma gave it to me a few weeks before she died. She knew she was dying and I guess wanted me to have it. My mother was maybe 14 when the picture was taken. She... well, she looks like me."

Castiel hopped off the bed and opened his trunk, pulling out his sketchbook, the one he carried with him everywhere. Dean was sure he'd filled many sketchbooks, but he carried this one everywhere and it was battered and covered in doodles that had faded with age.

He sat back down next to Dean and opened it. He pulled out two photos from a slipcover behind the front cover. One showed an older woman with a kind face and graying brown hair. She was bent over to a toddler on a tricycle, her hand on his shoulder. The child was looking away, laughing at something in the background, but the older woman was smiling at the camera.

"That's me and my grandma. I was four here. I have more pictures of her, but this is my favorite." He said softly.

"D'aww Cas. You were so cute!" Dean squealed.

Castiel just smiled. "I had a chance then, you know?"

He flipped to the next picture. This one was faded and curling around the edges, showing its obvious age and the fact that it had been handled many times over the years. It showed a teenage girl wearing a pink sundress, with a mane of brown Farrah Fawcett hair and eyes so blue they looked alien. She was smiling stiffly, standing in front of a rosebush.

"She's a dead spit for you. Those eyes." He said.

"I know." Castiel said. "Everyone always notices that immediately. I guess these eyes run in the family."

"What about a DNA test? Could you find her that way?" Dean asked.

"I've thought about trying that, but it's expensive, and honestly, I don't care if I find her anymore. She obviously didn't want me. She obviously doesn't want to know me, either, because by now, it would have been easy for her to track me down." He said.

Dean just nodded. Castiel slipped the photos back into the sketchbook carefully and put it back in the trunk.

"These pictures are all I have left of them." He said. "Looking at them, I almost feel normal, even though I'm not."

"I'm sorry you never had a family or a normal childhood. I wish I could take all those awful memories away and replace them with ones like I have." Dean said, slipping an arm around his shoulder.

"Dean… I know your upbringing wasn't perfect, that you and Sam went through hell, but coming here, has just shown me how many people love you. Your brother, he watches you with such adulation. He worships you. Your mom's the same way, the way she looks at you with such tenderness when she thinks you're not looking. The Singers too, Jo and her parents and brother, they're like a second family. You have no idea how much these people love you. How they'd die for you." He said.

"I know. I'm lucky." Dean said, and for once he actually believed it.

"Hold onto them. Hold onto them for dear life, because one day you could wake up and be like me, with nothing left of them besides a few vague memories and worn pictures. If you do absolutely nothing else in your life, do that." Castiel said.

Dean knew what Castiel was saying to him underneath his words, which were so carefully chosen. Dean had a family. In fact, Dean had two families, yet for a long time, he hadn't made them a priority. He knew that Castiel thought he needed to change and Dean knew he was right. Castiel assumed he had no one, nothing to hold onto, no one to call home, like Dean did. No matter how he spun it, when it came down to it, he knew his family wasn't Castiel's and there was always a chance they'd split. Dean wanted to give him something to hold on to, at least for now.

"Cas, I'm about to get really cheesy for a minute, so bear with me and don't interrupt, because this will probably never happen again." Dean said, actually blushing, "You're right about a lot, but you're wrong too. From the moment I ran over you in the quad last August, I've been falling for you. I love you as much as Sammy loves me, albeit in a different way. I look at you with that same adulation."

"Dean…" Castiel said softly, looking away. "It doesn't matter. You're not blood."

"I'm not done. Cas. You should know, blood doesn't always mean family. I mean, hell, look at my dad. Anyway, I want to tell you why I love you; I want you to know each little thing about you that drives me crazy."

Castiel just looked uncomfortable, but he nodded at him to go on.

"This is a mouthful, but here it goes. Cas, I love your messy hair. I love those bizarre eyes of yours and the way you stare at me with such wonder. I love how the first time I kissed you, you quoted Sylvia Plath. I love the breathy little sighs that escape your mouth when I'm kissing that sensitive spot on your shoulder. I love that you offered to draw my brother a birthday card. I love that you can wear fishnets and public and not give a shit. I love your mind, your wonderful, busy mind. I love the way you move. The way you speak. I love you, body, heart, and soul. I want you to know, no matter what happens, I would happily die for you a thousand times."

Dean finished and he was amazed at how insecure he felt when he was done saying it. He was slightly afraid that Castiel would laugh at him. It was probably the cheesiest thing he had ever said to anyone and he had used some pretty bad lines in his younger days. Fortunately, he had just meant what he said. He started to get more embarrassed when Castiel didn't say anything back.

Dean chuckled nervously. "Cas, come on. Say something and don't make me regret the cheese."

"How do love thee? Let me count the ways." He murmured. "Dean, have you ever read that poem?"

"Cas, you should know by now that I don't read poetry." He said, smiling a little bit.

"You should because you basically just recited it to me, but much more honestly." Castiel said, wiping his eyes.

"Oh man, why are you crying?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sobbing, so no worries." He said. "That was just… probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"M y point is, that people love you. I love you. There are so many reasons why. If you'd let more people see it, you'd have all the family you ever needed. You don't need blood relatives to be loved, Cas. You just need to be you." Dean said.

"God, Dean, are you trying to make me bawl?" He asked, sniffling.

"Maybe just a little." Dean admitted.

"Well it's working." He said. "You may be trying to be a scientist, but sometimes you have a way with words."

"Only when I really mean them, Cas. Now, want to see what's on tv?" Dean asked, reaching his hand forward and thumbing away one of the few stray tears that had escaped from his eyes.

"Sounds perfect."

They settled on Star Wars, mostly because Castiel loved it and Dean hated "A Christmas Story," which was the only other show on television right now. Dean hadn't celebrated the holiday season in a long time. The last two years had been spent in Plainville, sitting on the couch in his lonely, small apartment, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle, getting drunk enough to appreciate "It's a Wonderful Life." He'd call his family before dinner, drunk as a skunk, wishing them a Merry Christmas. He'd cackle merrily and tell them he was meeting Charlie's incredibly Catholic family for Mass later and his mother would bemoan him for "mocking their faith." Dean hadn't ever been mocking them; he simply joined them for Mass because he didn't want to be alone on December 25th.

Dean was a staunch atheist and he felt strange being expected to celebrate Christmas, mostly because of the "Christ" part of the equation. He knew no one celebrated it for these reasons anymore, but it still felt wrong celebrating the birth of someone he knew was probably just some guy. No one in Dean's family was religious, least of all him, but over the years, they always put on music celebrating baby Jesus and from the beginning of December through the middle of January, a fake Christmas tree sat in their living room. He didn't know why he was thinking about this all of the sudden. Maybe it was the season, maybe it was because this year he wasn't going to Mass simply to avoid being alone on some date that meant absolutely nothing to him, maybe it was the fact that Castiel had once told him that his name was derived from Cassiel, an angel mentioned in the bible (Dean had no idea—he had never owned a bible).

Dean glanced down at Castiel, who was currently leaning against him as if he were a pillow, his body totally relaxed, wearing a contented smile on his face. He couldn't believe that this was the same guy who one hour ago was in hysterics because Ellen and Bobby had been just too nice. Dean felt a twinge in his chest that was a mixture of love and lust. Castiel was certainly no angel, but Dean sometimes felt like one had sent him to him.

"Cas, do you believe in God?" He asked.

"No." Castiel said, not taking his eyes off Star Wars. "I'd be more likely to enter a burning house covered in gasoline than to go church, believe in God, or read the Bible."

"I didn't know you felt that strongly." Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked up at him. "If there were a God, then I doubt I would have been subjected to the things that happened to me as a child. If somehow, this mythical being did exist and these things still happened, then I'd take hell any day of the week." He muttered, furrowing an eyebrow.

Dean didn't say anything. Although Castiel was normally very sweet, kind, and funny, with a sense of humor that reminded him of Singer family's humor, he had so much rage and sadness inside of him. He remembered how he snarled at Jo, calling her a "dyke", the destroyed dishes and the paintings that he had slashed with a knife. Castiel was definitely no angel, unless angels were capable of getting PTSD.

"Please tell me you haven't suddenly switched sides." Castiel said sharply.

"No, not at all. I was just thinking about how at this time last year, I'd be moping around my apartment, drinking for a week straight, then going to church with Charlie and her family. Believe me, I'm on the same page as you are."

"Good." Castiel said.

Dean leaned over and cupped Castiel's face in his hands, kissing him. Castiel returned the kiss, which was filled with a sense of urgency that Dean had gotten addicted to experiencing.

"Mmm. Want to go upstairs?" Castiel breathed. "I'm kind of in the mood now."

Dean just grinned at him and kissed him again, He moved his hands from Castiel's face down to his waist, skimming his fingers over his ribs and then moving him up his shirt, kissing him deeper. Then, he heard the voice of the angel of cock blocking.

"Oh gross, get a room!" Jo yelled. "Your mom is right behind me."

Dean groaned inwardly and lifted himself off Castiel, whose eyes were still burning. He winked at him again and stood up.

"Jo, I love how, even here, you're showing up at my house unannounced at the worst times." He said, sending her a tight smile.

"Honey, I ran into Jo at the supermarket and invited her over to help with dinner. I haven't seen this girl in such a long time!" Mary said, smiling at Jo. They set bags of groceries on the kitchen table.

"Where's Sam?" Mary asked suddenly, her voice grave.

"Chill, mom, he's sleeping." Dean said.

Mary just nodded. "Okay. Good. You boys want to help me with dinner?"

"I brought wine." Jo added.

"Then we'll definitely help." Castiel said, standing up.

"You won't." Dean said, grinning. "Seriously, mom, Cas is like the worst cook ever."

The four of them padded around into kitchen, Castiel was relegated cutting vegetables (he seriously couldn't cook worth a damn and Dean hardly trusted him to cut vegetables), while Jo poured wine and made, and Mary preparing the lasagna. Chat was idle and Dean felt warm, loved and lucky to have these people in his life. They were cooking dinner and in two days, it was Christmas. It was so unbelievably normal that it hardly seemed like his life.

Around 6:30, with the pasta in the oven, Dean, Cas, Jo and Mary sat around the dining room table finishing off their second bottle of wine, when Sam came down the stairs, fresh from a nap. He looked more alert than he had when they had returned from Bobby and Ellen's, but his eyes still appeared slightly glazed.

"Something smells really good." He mumbled, taking a seat next to Jo.

"Mary and Dean made lasagna." Castiel said.

"Well if Dean made it, remind me not to eat it." Sam said, rubbing his eyes.

Dean started to retort when his mother interrupted him.

"Sam, it's after 5:30." Their mother said.

"God, I just woke up. I'll do it in a minute." Sam groaned. "One hour off isn't going to—"

"You need to be as prompt as you can be." Mary interrupted. "Come on. Now."

Castiel and Jo both looked confused. Dean felt embarrassed for his younger brother, because he knew exactly what his mom was referring to; Sam's medication schedule dictated a round of pills every 6 hours or so. Dean had seen him slip a handful of them in his mouth at brunch. Mary stood up and walked over to Sam. She patted him on the shoulder and gestured to the stairs.

"Goddamnit! I just woke up and you don't need to hassle me about this shit in front of guests!" Sam yelled. "I know, 5:30 every night, I know I need these injections or I'll go crazy. I don't need a goddamn reminder!"

Mary shuddered when he yelled. "I'm sorry, but punctuality is a necessity." She said, her voice trembling. Mary Winchester had never quite recovered from their father's drunken rages.

"I got it." Dean said easily. "Come on, Sammy."

Sam's face was red and he followed Dean up the stairs, Castiel and Jo watching them, their mouths slightly agape. Dean glanced at his mom and gave her a smile. She smiled back, her face tight, and sat down.

"You shouldn't yell at her." Dean muttered as soon as they entered the large bathroom that Dean and Sam had shared in high school.

"I know, but it's so embarrassing. She brought it up in front of Cas and Jo. So fucking embarrassing."

"She's trying. I didn't realize how hard she was trying. We shouldn't yell at her though. You know how she gets."

"She's babying me. I'm an adult, Dean. I'm 22 years old. Before all of this happened, I had a 4.5 GPA and I was on my way to the Ivies. I'm not mentally challenged. I'm mentally ill." Sam grumbled. He pulled open the medicine cabinet and pulled out the vial of Haldol, Dean washed his hands and pulled out the kit with the needles. It was almost mechanical for the two of them; they had done this so often when Sam had been at his worst.

"Any reason you can't do this yourself?" Dean asked.

"My hands shake too much. I can never find a vein. "He muttered. "I can't even give myself a fucking injection."

"Well, at least that'll prevent you from ever trying heroin." Dean muttered, trying his hand at inappropriate humor. "How much?"

Sam ignored his comment. "20 milligrams. "

Dean felt a little taken aback. He expected that Sam was taking it two or three times a day, but he didn't ask. 20 milligrams three times a day was a lot. No wonder he was so tired. He sighed, thinking about how Sam would have to do this every day for the rest of his life. Dean wordlessly wrapped the tourniquet around Sam's arm and prepped the needle. He glanced at Sam, who looked slightly nauseated. Despite receiving injections three times a day, for years now, Sam was still scared of needles.

"Don't watch it go in Sammy. It's always over quick."

Sam nodded and looked up at the ceiling. Dean found a vein easily and injected the Haldol. He still remembered all of this, clear as day. He could still take care of Sam like it was second nature. Sam opened his eyes and Dean released the tourniquet and tossed the used needle into the waste bin. They were probably the only family in Lawrence that had a "Hazardous Materials" trash can in their bathroom.

"Thanks." Sam muttered. "I know you hate doing that. I just… I don't know, having you do it is better than having mom do it. Somehow it's less degrading."

"I don't mind." Dean said. He didn't. He never really had. The injections were what kept Sam from spinning into space. Although he didn't say it out loud, he was glad that Mary Winchester was so adamant about the timing of the injections. One of the reasons Sam had relapsed so much since she came back was because she wasn't obstinate about his medication schedule. She had let Sam skip doses, or she would wait for Dean to come home from work because she couldn't stand injecting him with a needle either. A lot had changed in two years.

The two of them stood there for a minute. "Thanks for coming home." Sam said finally. "It means a lot. To me and to mom."

"I'm sorry it took so long."

"I don't blame you. If I were you, I would have run too. Your life is so much better now. Sometimes I envy you so much it makes me want to puke."

Dean nodded, understanding why, and wordlessly they went back downstairs. Dean remembered his thoughts about the domesticity of the scene and then thought about what he'd just had to do, and he had to remind himself that in this house, there was no "normal."


	17. Chapter 17

Dinner that night was a success, mostly because Dean had convinced his mother not to let Castiel near the lasagna.

"He can't be that bad." Sam said. "I mean, some people are domestically challenged, but everyone can cook something."

"Dude, one night he tried to make meatloaf for me and Jo. It had the taste and consistency of rubber. Hell, it even looked like a tire." Dean said.

"You said it wasn't that bad!" Castiel said, looking mildly outraged. "You ate it!"

"Cas, no offense honey, but I was there. Remember we just gave up and got pizza?" Jo said, taking a sip of her wine.

"I ate it because I love you. But I don't love you enough to ever let you cook for me again." Dean said, smiling at him. He reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze.

"He tried to make cupcakes for Charlie's 22nd birthday." Jo said. "Somehow they came out mostly uncooked. I mean burning food I can understand… but under cooked cupcakes? Blech."

"I was trying to be nice!" Castiel said. "She said she didn't want any gifts."

Sam stared at them, a smile ghosting his features. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice that I'm not the object of Dean and Jo's torture anymore, but give the guy a break."

Jo chuckled and poured herself another glass of wine. Dean reached his glass across the table and she obliged him by refilling his and Mary's glasses as well. She glanced at Sam, who was drinking a Pepsi. Sam was essentially a 60-year-old woman when it came to many of his food and beverage tastes, so he loved wine. Dean and Jo could basically read each others' minds and Dean knew she wanted to offer Sam a glass. She didn't. She seemed to realize that Sam couldn't drink alcohol, under any circumstances.

"So, Castiel, you're a professor?" Mary asked, moving the subject away from his awful cooking abilities.

"Yeah. I teach undergraduate sociology and research classes. Dean was never my student though. Dean is actually older than me." He said, adding in the second part, as if Mary and Sam might think he was preying on poor, innocent students.

"What'd you study in college? What was your focus at the graduate level?" Sam asked. Sam was a nerd.

"I have a BA in psychology and an MA in sociology. Both from Collins College. I'm pretty much a slave to that place." Castiel said wryly.

"What was the focus of your dissertation?" Sam asked.

"My research focused on the recent proliferation of human trafficking victims on the West Coast, specifically in Seattle and Portland. To put it simply, I'm especially interested in how their treatment in the U.S. criminal justice system affects them mentally and their well-being in the long term." Castiel said.

Dean felt himself go cold. He knew what Castiel had studied in graduate school. He and Castiel had extensively discussed Castiel's research and his dissertation. It had destroyed him mentally and was one of the reasons he'd been hospitalized while pursuing his master's degree. It was the reason he was teaching instead of furthering his education or trying to find research or counseling positions.

"Oh, that sounds awful. Why are there more there now? Why Seattle?" Mary asked.

"It's very common in cities near large water sources and with many highways. Easier transport. Recently, more victims have been turning up in Seattle. Also, did you know that in the state of Washington, a minor can be charged with solicitation? Did you know that the sentences for these minors is often harsher than what their victimizers receive?" Castiel asked.

"Jesus Christ. They charge kids with prostitution? How does that even work? Kids can't even consent." Sam said.

"I interviewed quite a few individuals who had been charged as children and put in juvenile detention instead of a rehabilitation center or therapy. Most who were charged continues to prostitute themselves or abuse drugs long after they became adults. The ones abused by the system never received the help they needed and the cycle just continued." Castiel said, his eyes darkening.

No one said anything for a minute. It wasn't exactly pleasant dinnertime conversation and Dean was the only one who knew why Castiel had pursued this kind of research.

"What made you interested in that?" Mary asked.

Dean suddenly felt ill. He knew the floodgates were about to break. He couldn't believe this was happening. Things had been going so well.

"Human trafficking is more common in this country than you can even imagine. It's happening right under our noses, to American citizens. I knew someone in my youth who was a victim of it. My entire life, I've wanted to do something to stop it, or at least something to help the victims. Eventually, I want to go into victim advocacy."

Dean held his breath, but nothing happened. Cas was fine. Mary, Jo and Sam didn't even seem to notice the twitch of Castiel's right eye, something that happened when he felt nervous. Dean knew his face well and had barely noticed it either.

"Jesus." Sam said again. "How did you meet someone who'd been through that?"

Dean gulped, but once again, nothing happened.

Castiel just shrugged. "I was brought up in the foster care system. I was bound to meet someone like that.

Sam and Mary's eyes widened a little bit, but to their credit, they didn't say anything. In the Winchester household, where insanity and dysfunction were the norm, they knew that they shouldn't.

"That's very admirable." Jo said. "Cas, I had no idea."

"I don't want to teach for the rest of my life. Right now it's just what makes the most sense." He said, shrugging again.

After dinner, Jo went home and the Winchester family and Castiel sat in the living room watching yet another showing of Star Wars. None of them were really paying attention. It was cozy and warm in the living room and Sam was passed out on the couch, drowsy from the injection of Haldol. Mary was knitting; something Dean had never seen her do.

Dean and Castiel were seated on the small loveseat. Dean had his arm draped around the shoulders of the smaller man. After brunch and the discussion about his family (or lack of), Dean was half-expecting him to break down and have one of his nervous breakdowns. He hadn't though and he was totally relaxed for the first time all day. Once again, Dean was struck by the domesticity of the scene, the normality of it. There was no drama, no tension in the air, and everyone seemed content in each others' presence.

"I hate Ewoks." Castiel said, wrinkling his nose.

"Why do you hate Ewoks?" Dean asked.

"Their defeat of the evil robots seemed impossible, because they can't fight. They're basically giant teddy bears, only existing to be 'adorable' so bandwagon fans have something to coo over."

"Star Wars is a children's film. They're there for the kiddos." Dean said.

"Star Wars is not a children's film!" Castiel said. "It's… transcendent, which means it's not for children."

"You take the weirdest things seriously." Dean said, chuckling. "Besides, I like Ewoks. Honestly, you kind of remind me of an Ewok, all cute and cuddly, yet totally badass underneath that geeky, strange exterior of yours."

"I am nothing like an Ewok." Castiel said. His eyes were bright and he appeared outraged again, even though a smile was playing on his lips.

Dean just laughed again and not even caring that his mother was sitting across the room, leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. Castiel tensed a little bit, probably because of the presence of Dean's family, but returned the kiss. Mary glanced up from over her knitting, but didn't say anything. She actually smiled a little bit.

"You kissed me in front of your mother." Castiel hissed, trying to keep his voice low. Even in the dim light, Dean could see how red his face was. "Last night you wouldn't even come to bed with me."

"Well, like you said, they know." Dean said, grinning a little bit. "Cas, you told me, and now I'm telling you. You just gotta relax. You're here and everyone loves you. Despite that, I have to say, I'm super proud of how well you are handling everything that's been thrown at you in the last two days."

Castiel softened. "I'm proud of you for coming back here and facing your family. Thanks for inviting me. I've never been invited to meet the family before." He said, probably for the millionth time.

"You and your 'I nevers.'" Dean said, shaking his head. "Broken record."

Castiel just scowled a little bit, but nestled closer against him, watching as a totally badass Ewok used a light saber to fight a Storm Trooper. Castiel made another face and stuck his tongue at the creature.

Dean felt himself smiling. It occurred to him that he was smiling so hard that his face hurt. He hoped it'd be like this forever: his brother being too smart, his mom knitting across the room, Jo being obnoxious yet all-knowing, Castiel being offended by Ewoks, and everything else that came along with knowing all the ultimately wonderful people in his life. Most of all, he wanted stability and sanity. In that moment, that tiny moment, despite everything that had happened, it seemed possible.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, Dean woke up in his old room, with Castiel curled up against him. When they'd first started sharing a bed, Castiel had slept facing away from him in a fetal position, clutching a pillow like it was some kind of security blanket. He still slept in a fetal position, but now he faced Dean, his arm forever reaching toward Dean, as if he was trying to keep him from getting away.

Dean had never had a normal sleeping patterns due to years of keeping watch over Sam while his parents were gone and four and a half years of doing most of his studying and reading at night. Since he'd met Castiel, his hours had become more regular and he'd gone from his normal four hours to six or seven hours. He wasn't sure why having Cas nearby had made him sleep more. Maybe it was because he didn't have to look out for Castiel like he'd had to look out for Sam. Maybe it was purely comfort. Maybe it was because Castiel was somewhat of an old man and spent hours in bed, sleeping, grading papers or reading. He didn't know why, but he certainly didn't mind it.

Dean reached his hand over and brushed a piece of hair off Castiel's face. He still needed a haircut.

Castiel stirred, always a light sleeper, and smiled up at him. "Hey there. Merry Christmas eve."

"Merry Christmas Eve. Today we celebrate the day before the birthday of some dude a bunch of delusional people think is God." Dean said, chuckling a little bit.

"You're such a heathen." Castiel said. He moved out of his fetal position, rolling onto his back and stretching. Dean took in the bit of skin that showed around his waist when his thin grey t-shirt rode up.

"Mmmm." Castiel moaned, stretching more, jutting his hips upward, trying to shake out the kinks from his body.

"Are you trying to get me all hot and bothered first thing in the morning?" Dean murmured. He reached over and dragged his fingers along Castiel's hips. "Doing that."

"I'm just stretching." Castiel's voice was rough, but it had some humor in it.

Dean flattened his palm on top of Castiel's left hipbone. "Sure you are." He whisked his fingers up the side of Castiel's body, keeping his touch soft, barely applying any pressure. He traced the notches between his ribs and he felt Castiel shudder. Dean knew his weak spots now and these feathery touches were one of them. Getting straight to the point, he scooted close to Castiel and straddled him, without putting his full weight on top of the smaller man. He bent over and kissed him on the forehead and then on the mouth and moved his hands up the front of his shirt, continuing to barely apply any pressure.

"You are awful." Castiel groaned.

Dean just shut him up by pretending his fingers were spiders, moving down the front of his boxers. Castiel just groaned as Dean worked out the rest of his kinks

When Dean finished, he leaned over Castiel and whispered in his ear."That was the first of many Christmas presents."

"Mmm, then you might have to give me another one once I've woken up some more." Castiel said, yawning.

"I think I could oblige that." Dean said, grinning and rolling over on his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

He looked beyond Castiel and out the window. it was uncharacteristically sunny outside. He was used to spending his holidays in Oregon. It didn't really snow that much in the Pacific Northwest, not like it had during his childhood in Kansas. He had actually been looking forward to a white Christmas, as clichéd as it sounds. Instead, it was sunny and bright, the temperature not dropping below 35 once since he'd been home.

Castiel turned over and looked at him. "Are you glad you came back?" He asked, semi-seriously, still post coital and sleepy.

"I am. I don't know why I stayed away for so long. What about you? Be honest."

"I am. I love your family. They've made me feel very welcome."

"They do that." Dean admitted. "As fucked up as my family is, they're actually pretty great with new people. Especially Sammy. I know I've said this, but that son-of-a-bitch can read people. I'm glad my dad isn't here though. This would have been a totally different experience if he were hanging around for some reason."

"Where is he, Dean?"

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to him in almost a year. He's probably drunk somewhere. Sam hasn't seen or heard from him since he came and saw him at the hospital. My mom just doesn't really mention it. I think it hurts too much."

Cas just nodded a little bit, not probing anymore, even though Dean could tell there were questions about John Winchester on the tip of his tongue. Dean flopped back on his back and the two of them laid there in silence for awhile, Dean drifting in and out of sleep. It was warm and comfortable in his old bedroom and even though it had been years, it still felt familiar. He remembered when he and Sam were kids, they would wake up at 5am, while it was still dark, and scurry down the stairs and sit next to the tree, shaking their presents and peeping into their stockings. Sam would always beg Dean to wake up their parents, but Dean always made him wait until the sun rose. He remembered one Christmas, one of the last years when John Winchester had been around regularly, his father had gone into the front yard and drawn reindeer tracks into the snow. Dean was too old for it at that point, but Sam wasn't, so he went right along with his father, feigning shock and excitement. Dean remembered how his father used to smell like coffee and pipe tobacco instead of whiskey, sweat and ash. He remembered the ecstatic smile on Sam's face when he saw the reindeer tracks, how his eyes had lit up and he'd been overcome with so much joy. Sam's eyes didn't light up anymore, but honestly, that was mostly chemical.

So much had changed, so much had gone wrong since the fake reindeer tracks, and it amazed Dean that he was still so comfortable in this house. Here he was, laying in bed with another dude in his childhood bedroom, which should have freaked him out, but it didn't. In fact, he didn't mind it at all. Like the night before, Dean felt warm, happy and loved. He didn't really give a shit about the holidays, but the sentiment was definitely there this year. He glanced over at Castiel who was staring at the ceiling and blinking, a soft smile playing on his lips. Dean felt like he had known Castiel for years, not a mere four and a half months. Everything felt different now. Cas made Dean sleep and he made Dean reunite with his long lost Kansas family.

After some more sleep and more Christmas sex, he and Castiel padded down the stairs to greet the Winchester family. Sure enough, Mary Winchester had made a large breakfast for the four people staying in the Winchester household. Sam was already awake, which surprised Dean because he usually slept in until 1 or 2 during holidays (and these days, all of the time), and he was sipping coffee and reading the paper. For the thousandth time since he'd arrived in Lawrence, he was struck by how normal Sam seemed.

"You're up early." Dean said.

Sam looked at him darkly. "Someone was loud."

Dean's face turned red. Castiel was really, really fucking loud. Dean kept forgetting that he was sharing this house with other people. This was the second or third time they'd woken Sam up. He was pretty sure that his younger brother would never let him forget it.

"Don't worry, Dean. It just reminded me of when we were kids." Sam said, chuckling a little bit. "You tried to be so quiet when you sneaked those girls in. Oh man, Cas, I could tell you some stories."

Castiel just smiled a little bit, but actually looked a little green. Dean couldn't tell if it was because he was envious or embarrassed. Knowing Cas, it was probably a combination of the two.

Mary Winchester came into the dining room and pointed them to her pancakes and eggs and the four of them sat around the table talking and joking, a very picture of domestic bliss. That was until Mary brought up the very subject that he had tried to avoid at brunch the previous day and in bed with Castiel just an hour earlier.

"Your father called." She said carefully.

There was no escaping it. There was no way he could return to Kansas without dealing with the man. Even the magic of having Castiel around and having a normal version of Sam sitting next to him could prevent that.

Dean just groaned. Sam blinked a few times, but he had seen their father in the last few months, while Dean hadn't seen him in years.

"Dean, it's Christmas." Mary said. "He's your father. He's my husband."

"It's not like I had a choice in either matter." He said. Dean hated his father. He hated him. John Winchester was one of the reasons that Dean hadn't come home in so many years. Whenever he came back to Kansas, his father always tried to insert himself back in his life, full of promises and niceties. It never ended well, since they didn't get along and because his father was a drunkard who treated them like crap.

Mary winced. "He just wants to come over for dinner tonight. I didn't say yes. I swear. Not yet."

"I don't want to see him. You shouldn't either. I don't know why you haven't made him sign the divorce papers." Dean said.

Mary winced again and didn't respond.

"Dean." Sam said quietly. "She has a point. It is one dinner. You haven't seen him in years."

"That's the point. I didn't come back here to see him. I came back to see the two of you."

"He's family, just like we are." Sam said.

"He's not my family."

"Dean, honey, please. I promise, this time he won't stay over. He'll come for dinner and leave. He wants to see you. He doesn't even know what you've been doing with your life. He didn't even know if you had graduated or not." Mary said.

"Well, whose fault is that? He has my number, Mom. He could have made an effort. He could have gone to see Sam when he was in the hospital without being an asshole. He could have stopped drinking himself to death when we were kids and stuck around for more than a few days at a time. He could have been a father. He could have, you know, not beaten the shit out of you for years. He chose not to do any of those things though." Dean yelled.

Mary recoiled as if Dean were the one hitting her. Sam's face darkened and he lowered his head into his palms. Castiel, who was sitting next to him, visibly tightened up and drew his mouth into a taut line. His mother's eyes filled with tears and she stood up and bolted out of the room. They heard the front door slam.

"That's the Mary Winchester we all know and love. Running away whenever that fucking asshole comes into the picture." Dean said. He was angry at her but he also knew it was his fault for being so cold. He couldn't help it. His dad pushed all the wrong buttons, brought an angry side of him out that he rarely showed anyone.

He stood up and began clearing the table, ignoring Sam and Castiel who were both staring at him as if he were the smoke monster from Lost. He didn't know if they were mad at him. Sam always got angry when he upset their mother. It didn't matter how right or wrong Dean was, Sam was fiercely protective of their mother, probably because he had never really known how bad John Winchester could be. This was because Dean had always tried to shield him from it. He didn't know what Cas thought. Dean wasn't actually sure he'd ever told Castiel about why he really hated his father.

Dean went into the kitchen and began to do the dishes. His eyes prickled with tears. Things had been going so well. He thought this trip back to Kansas would end up being perfect, a treat. He thought things had changed. Before the mention of John Winchester, he thought this trip home would be the one that would keep him coming back.

Castiel came in and stood next to him, staring at him in that curious, resolute way that had creeped him out when they first met. He knew now that Cas was studying him, trying to figure out the best way to confront him without creating conflict.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I'm sorry you have to put up with this crap." Dean grumbled. "I don't think I ever told you about that. You shouldn't have had to hear all that."

"You told me once." Castiel said. "That night you puked on my Toms. It didn't surprise me then and it doesn't surprise me now. I don't blame you for not wanting him around."

"He's just such an asshole, you know? I hate him. I hate how angry he makes me. I hate how much he hurts her, both physically and mentally. I hate him for not even knowing Sam. I just wish he would get out of our lives completely." Dean whispered.

"He sounds like an awful person." Castiel said bluntly.

"I don't know why she just won't leave him completely. They haven't even been together in years. Sam said that he heard that he's dating women around town and has been since she threw him out for the last time when she came back from Ohio."

"She loves him. It's stupid, but she's right. He is her husband and your father. But I disagree with her and Sam. That doesn't mean you should have to allow him a place in your life."

Dean set the dishes down and turned to Castiel. "What about all that stuff you said about blood yesterday?"

"Blood doesn't mean family. I know that… I should know that better than anyone. I always knew that. That's why I haven't looked for my mother since grad school, since things got bad because of my dissertation and my search for her. She's not my family and a man like your father doesn't have to be yours." Castiel said, staring at his shoes.

Dean sighed. "I know, Cas. I know this."

"Sam and your mom are family though." Castiel said pointedly.

Dean groaned again, hating Castiel for always being right, hating him for making him confront this _yet again_. They went back out to the dining room. Sam was still sitting there, teeth gritted and anger etching his features. He looked like he was trying not to yell or cry or possibly both. He looked up at Dean and didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to her." He said.

"I just hate it when she leaves like that." Sam mumbled. "It just reminds me when… well, when things were really bad." He glanced at Castiel and shut his mouth.

"I'm going to go upstairs and sketch." Castiel said, leaving them alone.

"He knows everything about us, doesn't he?" Sam asked. His voice was bitter. Dean hadn't realized that this had bothered Sam, then he remembered the night before, when Sam had been so embarrassed about Mary's forward attitude about his medication schedule in front of Castiel and Jo.

"Pretty much." Dean admitted. "I don't know, Sammy. I trust him. I love him. Telling him about everything, letting him share some of this crap you and I have been dealt has made a lot of difference. It's why I'm here now, dealing, instead of following mom out the door."

"You told him about the abuse? Does he know everything about me too?" Sam asked, his eyes darkening.

"Not everything. Not every detail." Dean said. "I wouldn't do that to you. He doesn't know about… things that happened. Just the basic stuff."

"So he knows that I am schizophrenic and that I'm routinely hospitalized and that I see demons when they taper down my antipsychotics too much?"

Dean gulped. "I'm sorry."

"You said it though. He's the reason you're here."

Dean just nodded. It was true. He never would have come back here if he hadn't met Castiel. He probably would have chickened out and stayed in Plainville over the holiday if Cas hadn't agreed to come with him. There was a chance Dean would have gone two more years without seeing his brother if he hadn't tripped over Castiel in the quad five months ago.

"You've changed." Sam said roughly.

Dean just nodded again, his cheeks heating up. Sam knew all this talk was embarrassing him. He hated seeming too vulnerable, too trusting, even if it was just in front of his brother. Hell, especially if it was in front of his brother. He'd cared for Sam for so many years that he still couldn't lift the façade that he could shoulder everything.

"Then I'm glad you told him. I'm glad he's here." Sam sighed. "If he's the reason for you sitting here with me, if he's the reason you're happy, feeling less burdened, then he's okay in my book and I guess I don't mind him knowing all of our dirty secrets."

Mary Winchester didn't come back for two hours and the house became unbearable, so Dean took Castiel and Sam over to the Singers for a few hours to exchange gifts. Being in the presence of the Singers, who were so jovial and so apple pie normal made Dean feel even worse. As Jo unwrapped the girl-shaped lava lamp he had gotten for her at a Goodwill in Plainville and screamed with laughter, he couldn't even laugh along with her. He could barely muster up enough spirit to return Jo and Bobby's bear hugs. When they left to return to the Winchester house, Dean understood acutely why Castiel had left the Singer house feeling so empty the day before. After all, the grass is always greener at Singer Salvage.

When Sam, Dean and Castiel arrived back at the house and Mary was still gone and not answering Sam's phone calls, Dean opened the bottle of whiskey he'd brought for "emergencies" (aka a normal day in the Winchester house) . The three of them spent the remainder of Christmas Eve day watching South Park holiday reruns because A Christmas Story made Dean want to shoot people. Dean didn't chug the whiskey, but sipped on it, allowing it to dull the sharp edges of pain and anger that wouldn't leave him.

Sam, as usual, was handling it remarkably better than he was, making small talk what to do for dinner that night and taking his pills exactly on schedule, making a point to announce it to Dean, to prove that he could still be normal, despite the slightly fucked up circumstances. Dean was glad for it, but he didn't understand how someone with such a fractured mind could be so calm. Dean had dealt with this for years and it had just broken him down. Broken him down so much he'd run 2000 miles away. Dean hated his father and he didn't like his mother very much right now, but always running, that was a trait the three of them shared.

"Do you think she's with him right now?" Dean asked, his voice slurring a little bit. He had been drinking since 3pm. Now it was 6:30. Mary had been gone since 11 and had ignored seven of their phone calls.

Castiel glanced at him, looking a little worried. He knew Cas hated it when he drank liquor. He had hated it since the night at Trickster's. Dean understood because he hated it when Castiel drank liquor too. Sometimes they just couldn't stop each other.

"I don't know." Sam said. "I wish she would at least call. It's Christmas Eve. Nowhere is open. I don't know where else could be."

Sam wasn't handling it so well now.

"I'm sure she's fine." Castiel said nervously.

On top of being angry at his parents and worrying about Sam, Dean hated himself for objecting Castiel to this. He had never wanted Castiel to experience this part of his life. Right now, Dean wanted to be back in Plainville so badly that he could taste it. If he could leave Sam alone in good conscience, he would have forced Castiel to drive them to the airport or at least to a hotel in Topeka.

"We shouldn't be sitting here moping." Sam said. "Let's at least make some dinner. I think Dean needs something solid in his system."

"I agree." Castiel said, glancing at him again.

Dean watched as Castiel's eyes began to dart back and forth. He could tell that Castiel was reverting, just like Dean himself had when he'd opened the bottle of whiskey three hours earlier. At the sight of the skittering eyes, Dean sighed and set his glass down on the table. "I'm done. I'll put that Digiorno pizza in the oven."

Castiel followed him into the kitchen.

"You alright?" Dean asked him.

"I'm okay. It's just unfortunate that she chose to do this on a holiday with you back in town." Castiel said. "What about you?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised the visit was pleasant for nearly two days." Dean said, shrugging. "This is what it's like. This is what it's always been like. Hell, I'm used to it. Sam's used to it. I'm just sorry that you have to get used to it."

"It could be worse. At least we're here together." Castiel said, smiling feebly. His right eye twitched.

"Cas, your eyes." He said. "When you start getting all twitchy, I know something's not right."

"I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know, I can't help it. When I get nervous, I twitch. Always have."

"Dean drinks. You twitch. I talk to my imaginary friend, Ruby. Mom runs. We've all got our issues." Sam said, coming into the kitchen.

Dean grinned in spite of himself. Leave it to Sam to make him smile. "He's got a point, Cas. In the grand scheme of things, I guess your eyeballs moving a little bit doesn't really compare to how the Winchester clan deals."

Castiel relaxed a little bit at the sight of the smile on Dean's face. Dean immediately felt better, even though he was a little bit drunk.

"Sam, not to be even more of a buzzkill, but she's not—" Dean started.

Sam waved him off. "Not in months and months, Dean."

"Leave it to Sammy to make the best of this situation. God love you, little brother." Dean said.

After dinner, the three of them sat in the living room, not talking too much. The air was still tense and there wasn't much for any of them to say. As usual, Sam passed out on the couch. Dean had South Park on, but he was no longer watching it. Cas brought his sketchbook down and sitting with his legs coiled underneath him, a position Dean never had found comfortable, furiously sketching something with a black ink pen.

Dean glanced over at it and as usual, it made no sense to him, a tangle of black lines, all intersecting, surrounded various 3-D shapes drawn to appear as if they were melting. Dean wondered what it meant, was dying to know what any of it meant, because Cas got so into it. Cas was currently ignoring him completely, his glasses perpetually falling down his nose, his brow furrowed in concentration. He bit his lip as he shaded in one of the melting triangles.

"Cas, what are you drawing?" He asked.

Castiel actually jumped, so absorbed in his work that he was surprised by Dean's voice. He cleared his throat and looked down at it.

Castiel stared down his sketchbook, silent. "I don't know." He said after a minute.

"None of it makes sense to me." Dean said. "Whenever I look at it, I'm confused. You're good though and you're always drawing. I want to understand it."

Castiel shrugged. "It doesn't make sense to me either."

"So you're like, an abstract artist? Like, Dali or something?" Dean just said the guy's name because there weren't too many artists he knew and Cas had a Dali print up in his living room in Plainville.

Castiel's eyes widened and he let out a barking laugh. "Dali? No Dean, I could never hope to be that good."

"What about those paintings? The ones you shredded? What were those all about? I liked them." Dean said.

He was being earnest because the second he'd saw those paintings, he was pretty sure he'd fallen just a little bit in love with Castiel. They'd been so bizarre yet so brilliant, so unlike the dry academic he'd assumed Castiel would be. Seeing them had surprised Dean completely, showing him a side of Castiel that he knew many people didn't see.

Cas swallowed and looked away. Dean felt his heart drop a little bit more, which was the exact opposite of what he needed tonight. Castiel closed his sketchbook and held it tightly against his chest. Dean watched him closely and to his dismay, Castiel's eye twitched.

"I'm not a good artist." He said, suddenly evasive, as if Dean were poking around somewhere he shouldn't be. Dean was reminded of the day before Thanksgiving break, when Castiel had gotten defensive and slightly angry when Dean had poked around his sketchbook.

"Yes, you are. Baby, you're great." He said, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Castiel's narrow shoulders, bring him closer. He expected Castiel to relax against him, lose the tension like he usually did, but he didn't. If anything, he clutched the sketchbook closer.

Dean released him and his heart fell even further. "Sorry." He muttered.

Castiel's eye twitched again and then he blinked several times, as if he were trying to stop it. Dean knew he was wound up because of the day's events and possibly still reeling from the two days spent with the Singers. Dean knew he was being selfish, objecting Cas to all of this. He'd expected too much from him, expected him to adjust to his family, his life here in Lawrence, when really, it was too much for him.

"You're a trooper. I'm sorry to put you through this." Dean said, almost begging for his forgiveness. "As soon as my mom gets back, we'll go home, okay? I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. He finally released the sketchbook and set it on the coffee table in front of them. "Dean, once again, you underestimate me." He groaned.

"I'm not underestimating you, but you're so… tense right now. You have been all day. I don't want you to be. You shouldn't have to put up with this."

"Dean, I'm not putting up with anything. I am not here to indulge you. I'm here I want to be here. I love you and I want to be in your life completely. Your life here isn't easy, in fact, it's more difficult than I imagined, but I'm dealing with it and so are you. That's what matters."

"But you're so wound up, Cas. You don't seem okay."

Castiel's eyes opened and he actually looked a little angry, "Dean, for the love of God, drop it. I've told you, a million times, I am not going to break. I am not made of glass." He hissed, glancing over at Sam's sleeping form, trying to keep his voice low.

"Cas, I know you aren't, believe me, I do. I'm just worried. You're so tense and your eye is twitchy and you're drawing weird shit. I'm worried because I care, that is all. I want to look out for you." Dean said. He knew saying that would piss him off, but he was genuinely so worried.

"Dean, I could say the same thing about you drinking and getting pissed off. We are both dealing in our own ways, okay? You don't have to take care of me all of the time." He said, his eyes getting darker. "Right here, this is the package. This is me. When I get nervous, I get tense and my fucking eyes move around a lot. I can't help it. I draw because it makes me feel better. It doesn't mean I'm not okay."

Dean couldn't respond to that. Once again, Cas had just put him in his place. He suddenly felt extremely idiotic for fawning over his boyfriend like he was a porcelain doll. He was fawning over him, worrying about him, like he was Sam. Except Cas wasn't Sam and neither of them needed him trying to take care of them all of the time. As Dean thought this, Sam began to snore, as if he was bored by Dean's attitude toward.

He looked at his brother, who was 22, had a near genius level IQ and had dealt with the day's events better than any of them, chemical imbalance be damned. He looked at Cas, who looked extremely annoyed, yet also extremely adorable. Then he remembered that Cas could hulk out and he looked less adorable. Sam and Cas had layers and Dean was not their caretaker.

"Dean, come back to me." Cas said, repeating one of Dean's own lines back to him.

Now Dean was blinking, realizing he'd spaced out for a minute. Cas reached over and stroked the side of his cheek. "I love you. I care about your family and what happens to them" He said, his voice softer. "You know that, right? That is why I'm here, twitching and sketching like I am."

Dean almost made a joke, but he didn't. He was suddenly exhausted, too tired to be good humored, too tired to worry about anyone anymore. Instead, he just leaned against Cas, who pulled him close, and whispered more "I love yous" and reassurances in his ear. Dean fell asleep on his chest.


	19. Chapter 19

In the dark, Dean could tell Castiel's mind was racing. Castiel kept shifting next to him, sighing, muttering to himself, and turning the pillow over. It was driving Dean crazy, but he couldn't exactly sleep himself, so he couldn't be irritated at Castiel for being restless. Around 2am, he spoke up.

"Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, a Cast was stirring, like a really annoying mouse." He muttered.

Castiel groaned. "Dean, come on, that was a lame joke. Even for you."

"What's going on in that busy head of yours?" He murmured. He reached and stroked his fingers across a stubbly cheek.

"I don't know. I'm just worried." He confessed.

"About what?"

"I don't know how you deal with all this. Your mom just disappearing and not coming back and possibly running off to your abusive father. Your brother seeing… what did he call it, an imaginary friend… and being so flip about it. It's making my stomach hurt."

"Do you see why I didn't come back for two years?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I'm serious. I just… I'm worried for them. I don't know them, yet I'm worried for them."

"It sucks. But as I've learned from you, I might point out; you have to deal with it. It's part of the package." Dean said into the dark. He was learning to accept this, slowly but surely. His family would never be the Singers, no matter how much he wanted them to be.

"I know, I just… I don't know, I didn't realize, I guess."

"Thank you for being worried." Dean said. His voice was soft. On some strange level, the fact that Castiel was worried about his family made his heart hurt in both good and bad ways. It meant so much, even though he didn't want to burden someone like Castiel, who already had so much of his own baggage.

"You're… welcome?" Castiel said, sounding a little confused.

"It means a lot that my family makes you lose sleep. I mean, I hate that you're losing sleep and worrying, but I don't know, it's really awesome that you care that much."

"You've shown me a lot. Made me open up a lot, let people back in to my life. I don't know, Dean. Since I met you, I've started… caring about other people again. It's disquieting."

"You didn't care before?" Dean said. He found that impossible. Castiel was one of the most empathetic people he'd ever met. In fact, sometimes he thought Cas was too empathetic and cared too much about other people and how they perceived him.

"I cared, but not like you'd think. I was shut down. I didn't have it in me to let anyone into my life, not after everything that happened. Then I met you. The night… the night I destroyed everything in my apartment… I think that it was kind of a reaction to that, I guess. Now I just worry and toss and turn a lot."

They didn't talk too much about that night. They referred to it in passing as "the night Cas hulked out" or "the night Cas shoved Jo" but that was really it. They had actually made somewhat of a joke out of it, even though it hadn't been a joking matter. More than anything, Dean didn't like to think about it. That night had shown him a side of Castiel he hadn't seen since and never wanted to see again.

"Defense mechanism." Dean said finally. "That's all it was, Cas. I'm glad though. I'm glad you're letting people in again. I'm grateful that you let me and my crazy family into your life."

"I can't help it. You have that effect on me. I never thought I'd worry this much about people I've known for two days." Castiel said, his voice quieter than it had been before.

Dean smiled a little. "Don't worry so much. Sam is fine, believe me, I never thought I'd say that, but he is. My mom… well, she'll be back in the morning."

Castiel sighed and curled up against him in the dark. Dean brushed his lips against the crown of his forehead. "Before you start tossing and turning again, let me just tell you, I'm crazy about you." He murmured into his ear. "I am so fucking glad I found you."

"Same here." Somehow with that invocation, Dean was able to fall asleep again.

Dean awoke to a mouthful of Castiel, whose lips were smashed against his, warm and urgent. Dean's eyes fluttered open and he returned the kiss, although he wasn't in any mood for it. He pulled away, gently pressing his hand on Castiel's chest to push him away.

"Good morning, Dean." Castiel said, settling back onto his side of the bed. He rolled over on his side and propped himself up with his elbow.. He was clad in a Collins College t-shirt that swallowed up his small frame and boxers. His black hair was wild, sticking out in every direction. His eyes were electric, strangely intent, yet also unfocused. Although he looked ready for bed, Dean knew he'd been awake for hours.

"Did you sleep at all?" He responded.

Cas shook his head. Dean sighed. He remembered the night before, when Cas had been 'worried' and how edgy he had been in the hours following Dean's fight with his mother.

"I'm okay." His voice was quiet. "I just… couldn't sleep, I guess. I decided to wake you up."

"It's not a bad way to wake up." Dean said, a smile playing on his lips. "Definitely my favorite way to wake up, in fact." He leaned in and placed a little kiss on Castiel's lips.

"I wish I could wake you up that way every morning." Castiel murmured.

"Who says you can't? Issues of morning breath aside, I'm not really complaining."

Cas rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "You're leaving." He said flatly.

When Cas said that, Dean forgot that it was Christmas Day in Lawrence and that his mother had bailed and that his brother was schizophrenic. Suddenly the most important thing to him was assuring Castiel that, yes, he was leaving, but he wasn't leaving him. Dean hadn't told Castiel, but before they left for Lawrence, he had sent in his first graduate school application and soon, he'd be sending in the rest. Whether he liked it or not, his life was moving forward.

Dean kissed him again. "Come with me." He whispered and immediately, he regretted it.

Dean hadn't meant to say it, especially not with everything so raw from the previous day's happenings. Right now was the definition of wrong time, with the strange heaviness of the holiday and Castiel's vulnerability in the air. This didn't mean that Dean's feelings about the situation had ever changed. They hadn't spoken too much about it, but Dean had wanted him to come with him. He wanted Castiel to quit his job, leave the town he loved and move to the city with him. Dean wanted Castiel with him in no matter what he did. It was selfish, but no matter how much Dean rationalized it, this is what he wanted.

Cas tensed up a little bit and opened his mouth to respond. He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Dean called out.

"Are you decent? It's Sam."

Reality set back in at the sound of Sam's voice.

Dean quickly got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and Cas did the same. Sam came into the room. He was already fully dressed and he looked grave.

"What is it, Sammy? Did Santa not bring your stocking?" Dean asked, smirking a little bit at the memory of a 12 year old Sam wailing because their parents hadn't set up stockings for them that year.

Sam shot a glance at Castiel, who looked entirely uncomfortable and slightly annoyed at Sam's intrusion on their conversation. Sam sighed deeply and nodded toward the hallway, indicating they needed privacy.

"Cas, can you give us a minute?" Dean said.

Cas looked slightly offended but went out into the hallway. Dean closed the door.

"Sammy?"

Sam sighed again. He looked slightly nauseated. "Mom's back. He... well, he hurt her pretty bad." He said.

All of the humor drained out of him and he felt the rage that always accompanied the mention or thought of his father creep to the surface. Dean blinked, once, twice.

"What did he do to her?" He kept his voice tight and controlled.

"Black eye, dislocated shoulder and some bruises." Sam muttered, looking at the wall behind Dean, avoiding his eyes.

Dean seethed, seeing red, overwhelmed by the urge to go find his father and kill him. If his father had appeared in front of him at that very second, Dean would kill him and feel absolutely no remorse over it. In fact, he'd feel joy.

"Why isn't she at the hospital?" Dean asked, his voice shaking.

Sam sighed for the third time in five minutes. "She's a nurse; she knows the injuries don't require a hospital. She already had someone fix the shoulder."

"Did she go to the police?"

Sam didn't answer and Dean knew she hadn't. Dean's face heated up. He stalked over to his suitcase and grabbed his coat, pulling it on.

"Dean." Sam said. "Dean, don't."

"I'm going to kill him." Dean growled. He opened the door and barreled down the stairs. Cas and Sam followed him, Sam uttering protests, telling him no no no, Cas saying "Dean? DEAN? Dean?" Dean drowned their voices out. All he saw was his father's bloodied face, his mother's perpetual fat lip, and the image of Sam crying when they left yet again . Dean wanted it over, he needed it over. He needed his father dead, gone, where he could never hurt any of them again.

Dean grabbed his keys off the table next to the door, when he felt Sam grab his arm. Dean spun to face him.

"What?" He cried.

"You don't need to do this." Sam said. "You can't do this. Not again."

Dean flashed back to the last time he had been home, two years ago, when he'd idiotically agreed to get a beer with his dad and the night had ended with the two of them in a bar fight, running out before the police arrived.

"That man beat the hell out of mom. That man doesn't know us. He's a terrible person. I'm going to give him a taste of his own goddamn medicine!"

"Dean, you're nothing like him. You don't need to do this." Sam repeated.

Dean seethed, but stopped in his tracks. Castiel stood behind Sam, still wearing his enormous Collins College t-shirt, his eyes wide and terrified. It hit Dean that Cas had never seen him angry. Sure, they had fought and yelled, but right now, he was filled with pure rage right now and he fully intended to confront his father and kill him.

"Don't do it, man. Don't stoop to his level. Stay here, be the man. Be the man for mom and me. Mom doesn't need to deal with this right now and Cas doesn't need to see you like this. Come on, dude, let's just… chill. I know it's hard, but please, for us, don't do this."

Dean stood there, trembling. Images of his father faded momentarily and all he saw was Sam and Cas. He stared at his brother, whose eyes were so wide, so earnest. He saw a brother that he'd raised, a brother who idolized him and didn't need him getting into trouble over a waste of life like their father. He saw Cas standing behind his brother, looking shocked at Dean's sudden outpouring of anger, the full lips that Dean loved so much trembling like he was about to cry. Their faces were so different, yet so similar. Sam had seen him like this so many times and didn't need to see him like this again. Cas had never seen him like this and didn't need to start. Dean felt himself calming down ever so slightly at the sight of these two men who he loved so much, albeit in completely different ways.

Dean deflated, visibly and Sam reached over and extricated the keys from his hands and set them on the table. He reached over and grabbed Dean's arm and gently guided him to the living room. Mary was sitting on the couch, trying to knit, but Dean could see how tight her jaw was and the way her lips were trembling. Clearly she had heard everything.

Dean stared at her, the rage dissipating completely when she looked up at him. The swollen purple bruise around her eye should have made him angrier, but suddenly he felt so bad for her, that he knew that if he ran off to confront his father, that she'd fall to pieces and leave Sam with no one and Dean couldn't let that happen.

"Mom." He said softly. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have left yesterday. I shouldn't have gone to him. This is my fault." She whispered.

"No, this is not your fault." Sam said. "Mom, this is his fault."

"I told him I was leaving him for good. I told him that he drove Dean away for two years and that it was over. He went crazy."

This had happened dozens of time, as far as Dean could remember. His father would do something stupid, like spend all their money on gambling or booze and she'd threaten to leave him until he smacked her around for awhile. Sometimes she'd stay away for weeks at a time, but she always would go back and they'd run away together. Dean closed his eyes. He wanted her to be done with him more than anything. He'd give anything for her to leave him.

"He wasn't always like this." She murmured. "He wasn't always this mean."

She was right, he hadn't always been mean. Until Dean and Sam were 11 and 7, John Winchester had always been around. He rarely drank. He and Mary kissed like teenagers. Something happened that year and he lost his job as a security guard and he started drinking more and more. Then he started leaving. When Dean was 13, he saw his father slap his mother for the first time. Dean wondered what had changed, if he was only mean when he was drunk. He still wondered this, but he no longer cared because John Winchester was dead to him.

"Maybe he has what Sam has." She said, almost talking to herself. "Dean, he was out of his mind. Maybe he's the reason Sam is sick. We know it's genetic."

_It runs in families._

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Sam is nothing like him."

"Neither are you." Sam interjected, looking a little ill at the insinuation about John Winchester passing on the schizophrenia to him.

"Sam didn't get it from him." Dean repeated.

He sat down next to his mother, whose jaw was clenched. Dean could tell she was trying not to cry and he was reminded of how Castiel had looked moments ago. Dean knew he couldn't hurt these people anymore. He wouldn't be like his father. He _wasn't_ like his father. Not knowing what else to do, he leaned in and pulled Mary into a hug. She shuddered against him and let out several shaky breaths.

"It's okay, Mom." He murmured, stroking her shoulder. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I promise, I won't do anything. I swear."

"I'm going to leave him this time. I have the papers. I don't why I love him so damn much, but this time, I'll leave him." She whispered, her voice breaking a little.

Dean glanced up at Sam, who currently looked like the frightened little boy he'd been the first time he'd seen their mother like this. His jaw was working in the same way as Mary's was. He sat down on the other side of her and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Since they were very young, it had often been like this, the two of them comforting their mother.

"Sammy, it's going to be okay. It'll be okay this time. We're in this together." He said, trying to be soothing, trying to keep the rage from bubbling back up to the surface. Mary, so clearly heartbroken, was keeping his rage down, but he knew he could resurface at any moment. He didn't know where Sam's mental illness came from, but Dean knew deep inside that he had inherited his father's temper.

_I'm not like him. None of us are, genetics be damned._

Across the room, Castiel stood there, watching them with a strange look in his eyes. Dean remembered their conversation the day before about the Singer family. In a moment of strange clarity that almost made him laugh, Dean hoped like hell that this fucked up family scene wasn't making his boyfriend nostalgic for parents he'd never had.

After a few more of what Dean saw as false promises and a few more hugs from her sons, Mary went to bed, clearly rattled from a long night. As she ascended up the stairs, she apologized to Castiel for ruining his Christmas and promised, in a vacant voice, that they'd open gifts after dinner that night.

"I can't believe she's thinking about giving us presents after that." Dean said, once they were in the safety of the living room.

"Dean, she's our mom and you know her, she loves to give us gifts. Loves to keep up some semblance of normality. It's how she deals with me." Sam said wryly. Dry humor, acute self awareness, it's how his entire family dealt with these 'situations.'

"Right now, I'd say you're the sanest person in the Winchester family." Dean muttered. He no longer wanted to kill his father, but the rage that had overtaken him still quivered beneath the surface and he had to admit, it made him nervous.

Sam sighed and sat down next to him. He glanced at Castiel, who was sitting on the loveseat, looking like he was deep in thought.

"Cas, I am really sorry about all this." Sam said. "I guess you probably didn't expect this."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I brought him here." Dean interjected.

"I really don't mind." Castiel said, sounding a little too earnest. "Believe me, with what I grew up around, I learned that there is no such thing as a perfect American family."

Sam nodded a little. "But still."

"Your family is not perfect." Castiel said firmly. "But it's clear that the three of you love each other much. The way you comforted your mother, well, it was quite a sight for me. I still expect mothers to be the ones doing the coddling, not the other way around."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're being surprisingly cool about this." He turned to Dean. "Hey man, can we keep him?"

Dean smirked, which surprised him, considering everything that had just happened. "I think we can. I quite like him, anyway."

Dinner that night was tense, Mary keeping her head down so the boys wouldn't see the black eye. Dinner was fraught with small talk and heavy silence, all of them trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Finally, she lifted her head, black eye and all, and spoke.

"Dean, tomorrow or at least before you leave on Wednesday, I'd like you to take me down to the police station." She said, her voice thick. She glanced at Castiel, her face etched with shame.

"Why?" Dean asked, knowing his voice sounded stupid. He knew why, but he couldn't believe she'd actually do it.

"I'm going to get a restraining order and I'm going to get a lawyer to force him to sign the papers." She muttered. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep holding onto something that was lost to me years ago. I talked to someone awhile ago who said he can push it through without John's cooperation."

Dean hadn't known this.

"Are you serious?" Sam asked. "Mom, are you serious this time?"

Apparently his brother hadn't either.

She nodded. "Yes."

Dean couldn't help it. He smiled. "That's great, mom."

"We can stay for a few days longer if you'd like Dean to be around during the beginning of this process." Castiel said, volunteering them for something Dean wasn't sure he wanted to do.

"No, you boys… you back to school. This is something I need to do myself."

Castiel cleared his throat. "Mary, I just wanted to tell you something. Earlier, you said you ruined my holidays. That's not true. You didn't. Not at all."

Mary smiled at him, a watery smile, but it was there. "Castiel, you're a sweetheart but you don't have to say that. I am so sorry this was your first impression of our family."

He shook his head. "I'm not being facetious. I'm serious. I've never really had a family. At least not when it counted. Being here in your home, getting to know you and Sam, it has been a joy. I was so nervous to meet you all, so nervous you'd think I was a freak, because well, I am, but you have made me feel so welcome."

Sam actually guffawed, almost a little too loudly. "You? A freak? Look who you're talking to, man. This family…"

Mary actually snorted a little bit too. Despite this, he continued.

"Your family is not perfect and everyone here is flawed, but the way you have taken me in during this time of year, and the way you've accepted me and Dean, the way you've been so open with me… well, it really has been amazing. I've seen the best of your family and the worst. When I say the worst, I must note that none of it came from you."

"We have a lot of problems." Mary said simply, smiling a little bit more. "Despite that, you are always welcome here, Castiel. I would never judge you, especially since you've made my Dean so happy. Seeing you two… seeing how healthy your relationship is… well, it was just the kick in the ass I needed to move forward."

Dean almost blurted out that less than a month ago, he'd threatened to kill Cas and then had proceeded to vomit on him, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Mom and I were talking about how we'd both like a normal, healthy relationship like the one you two have." Sam said. "Seriously, you two are disgusting, like an old married couple who still hold hands all of the time."

"I'm just happy that my relationship with Dean's father didn't skew or permanently affect the way Dean handles relationships." Mary said, sounding she was reading a psychology textbook.

"Mom, are you serious?" Dean asked. "Are you actually going to go through with it this time?"

She nodded slowly. "This time, I think I am. I'm going to call the Singers tomorrow. They've always been there for you and Sam, maybe they can help me through this as well."

As they cleared the dinner table, Dean thought about it. He actually believed her this time. When they exchanged gifts, small things, because the Winchesters no longer made a big deal about holidays, he hardly noticed because his mother divorcing John Winchester, on the grounds of Dean's healthy relationship, was probably the best gift he could ever receive.

The next day, Dean took his mother to the police station to get a temporary restraining order, which he hoped would turn into a permanent restraining order. He never thought he'd be so ecstatic to be doing something like this, but as he'd thought a million times since he'd arrived in Lawrence four days ago, the Winchesters weren't a normal family. This made him consider his last name for a minute and wondered if Mary would change her last name once the divorce went through. It seemed strange for him to think of himself, Sammy and his mom as "the Winchesters" when the man who bared their namesake hadn't really been part of the family in years.

Somehow, Mary had also gotten a lawyer to meet them at the police station, even though it was the day after Christmas. This made Dean feel more confident about the end of his marriage because Mary had obviously expedited the process, which meant she was taking it seriously.

"Who's your lawyer?" he asked quietly as he pulled his mother's car around the corner. He glanced at her. She looked nervous, sick, and somehow relieved, all at the same time.

"Victor Henriksen." She muttered. "You might remember him."

Dean remembered him, probably better than Mary did. When Sam had lost his marbles the first time, they had to get a court order to get him hospitalized (and thus stabilized) and Henriksen had acted on their behalf. He was tough, no-nonsense and had helped with Sam's case for basically nothing because Mary hadn't been around much then and Dean had no money. Dean liked and respected Henriksen and was glad he'd be helping his mother.

"He's a divorce lawyer?"

"No, but I went to him about six months ago to discuss the issue of John not signing the divorce papers. He said he could help, told me the first step was to get a restraining order. He likes our family, especially Sam, and once again, he's doing it for basically nothing. It doesn't matter if he's a divorce lawyer or not." She said, looking out the window, her voice far away.

"You went to him six months ago?" Dean asked, trying to keep the shock out of his voice.

"Yes. After what he did, I knew it was time. Or I thought I did." She said softly. She didn't elaborate on why and Dean was secretly glad, because he didn't feel like murdering anyone today.

They arrived at the police station and Mary got out slowly, as if she still was considering the decision. Dean reached over and took her hand. He was glad Sam hadn't come. He didn't need to see this. He wondered what the hell he and Castiel were doing alone at the house together. She squeezed his hand and they met Henriksen out front.

"Dean, Mary." He said warmly.

Dean smiled at him, although the sight of him almost made him ill to his stomach because this was the man that had gotten Sam institutionalized. Dean knew it had been for the best, but the memories were not. Mary looked up slowly and Dean couldn't help but notice how red her cheeks were. Henriksen was smiling until he saw her face.

"When did he do that to you?" He asked. Dean could hear the anger in his voice, even though the lawyer was clearly trying to keep it out of his voice.

Dean felt a little shocked at Henriksen's response. He figured that Henriksen saw things like this all the time, but he seemed personally affronted by Mary's black eye.

"Yesterday." She muttered. "Victor, that's why I'm here. I'm finally ready."

Victor nodded. "I'm glad."

It took an hour and a half to file a temporary restraining order. On the way home, Dean felt great relief, but his happiness was gone. As his mother had signed the papers, she had almost wept in front of him, Henriksen and the police. She whispered, more to herself than Dean, as they left the station I love him, but it's time. It was miserable for her and for Dean. He felt awful for her, because there was something about John Winchester that had kept her around for so many years, and he didn't know what it was. He was just glad it was finally almost over.

They arrived back at the house and Castiel and Sam were sitting in the living room, intensely discussing something. When they walked in, Sam rushed over and wrapped his mother in an enormous hug. Her floodgates finally broke and Dean and Castiel watched helplessly as she sobbed on her youngest son's shoulder. Dean glanced at Cas and nodded toward the stairs. Sam and Mary didn't say anything.

When they got into Dean's old room, Castiel reached over and took his hand.

"How was it?" He asked quietly.

"Awful." Dean said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples. Castiel sat down next to him, his gaze ever curious. "She's heartbroken, Cas. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that she's finally ending it, but I didn't really consider how hard it'd be for her."

"You're proud of her, though?"

"Yes, more than I can say. I just wish there was something I could do. Sam's always been there for her more than I have been, if you can believe it. The kid never judged her like I did. I think the only reason she asked me to go with her instead of him was because her lawyer is the guy who got him locked up the first time." Dean said.

Castiel crawled on the bed and sat behind him. He placed his hands over Dean's and rubbed his head, bending over and brushing his lips on his shoulder. Dean sighed and leaned against him.

"Let's go out." Castiel said. "We haven't really left this house except to go to Jo's place and I think you could use a break."

Dean nodded. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

The next few days in Lawrence passed quickly. Dean showed Castiel around Lawrence and they went out drinking with Ash and Jo, which ended up being hilarious and a welcome break from the admitted intensity of being at Mary's house. Castiel helped Sam with one of his writing assignments, since he was going back to community college in January. Mary kept up pretenses of being happy, even though Dean could tell she was miserable. December 30th rolled around quickly and Dean realized that, despite everything that had happened during his short and eventful time home that he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to be 2000 miles away from Sam or his mother. The visit hadn't been perfect, but it had been exactly what he needed.

They were standing in the foyer, bags packed up in the rental car, about to drive to the airport. Sam looked dejected at the prospect of their departure and Mary was crying, although it wasn't the gut wrenching sobs from a few days ago. She was genuinely sad to see him leaving. Dean felt the same way.

"I don't want to go." Dean said to his brother. "I could try to change the ticket, leave on the 2nd or something."

"No, Dean, that shit's expensive. You need to go back. Your life is there." He said, staring down at his feet.

"My life is here too." Dean said.

Mary wiped her eyes. "Sam's right, your lives are there. Just don't wait two years for your next visit, okay? Both of you."

Dean glanced at Cas when she said that and Castiel actually looked wrecked too. "Mom, I think you're gonna make Cas cry." He said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not going to cry." Castiel said, glaring at him a little bit, while also blinking profusely.

"Honey, it was so wonderful to have you back home." She said. She grabbed him and wrapped him up in one of her hugs, the kind of hug that only your mom could give you. "I love you." She whispered into his ear.

"Call the Singers if it gets too hard." He whispered back. "Mom, I'm so proud of you."

He released her and went over to Sam. "Goddamnit Sammy." He said, blinking back a few tears of his own. "You take care of her, okay?"

Sam smiled. "So I'm allowed to do that now?"

Dean grabbed him too, giving hugs all around. "I'm going to miss you, little brother. You are fucking awesome, you hear? Keep up the good work and for God's sake, keep in touch and come visit me."

"I will, Dean. I promise. And thanks."

"For what?"

"For coming back. For finally seeing me for more than this disease. For trusting me to take care of mom."

"I love you, Sammy."

"You too, Dean."

Dean released his brother and he was halfway considering pulling Sam to the car and taking him with him back to Plainville. He couldn't though. Sam was right. His life was across the country and though Sam's life wasn't much yet, he was making one here.

They left Lawrence, flying across the country, back to Oregon and for once, this Dean wasn't running away from it all.


	20. Chapter 20

Returning to Plainville, for the first time pretty much ever, was bittersweet. Dean missed his family with an ache he hadn't felt in years. Castiel mentioned that he missed Dean's family as well as they pulled the Impala (thank God he had her back) into the parking lot of Cas's apartment complex. Castiel missing them made Dean miss them even more.

"Sam's a great kid." Castiel commented as they lugged their suitcases up the stairs to Castiel's apartment.

"Cas, he's not a kid. He's two years younger than you."

Cas frowned a little. "But still. You know, he and I talked a lot. Turns out he doesn't sleep much either. He said he gets too much during the day."

"You had private conversations with my brother?" Dean asked. He actually felt a little ill at the prospect.

Castiel just nodded and didn't answer. They arrived at the door and went inside. Dean was dying to know what the two of them discussed.

"So, what'd you guys talk about?" He asked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"Unsurprisingly, we talked about two subjects and only those two subjects. You, of course, and our… issues."

"Issues? Me?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know what I want to hear about first. Both so juicy." He threw himself on the couch, exhausted after the goodbyes, the plane ride, and the drive. Mostly exhausted by the plane ride though. He didn't like flying.

"Nothing bad about you. I was right about him though. He worships the ground you walk on, wants to be just like you. Wants your life, except the whole having sex with men part, which he made very clear." Cas said, chuckling a little.

Dean sighed. "He's so much smarter than me. He could do so much."

"He will, Dean. I know it. I can tell. I told him about the hospitalizations, the medications, the therapy. It actually felt good to talk to someone who gets it. The ironic part is that although I am technically more 'stable' than Sam, he is actually far more accepting of his illness than I am of my own problems. It gave me a lot to think about, I guess."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. Cas didn't talk about the clinical aspect or the cause of his issues that much, even though recently he'd been more open about them recently than he had in the beginning of their relationship. Castiel's issues mostly came out in spurts, when aspects of daily life made him uncomfortable or miserable enough that he'd discuss them with Dean.

"Until this year, I was so closed off, so fucking pathetic. I mean, you didn't know me before. I was a goddamn hermit. I had no friends. Sat here alone all of the time. Dwelled on everything, and wished so desperately I could be normal."

"You're not pathetic, Cas. Who's to say what's normal, anyway? No one I know is normal. Hell, I don't even know the meaning of the word." Dean said.

"I was, though. But it was of my own volition. I chose to isolate, chose to do nothing but work and sit in this apartment alone, always sketching and watching movies, avoiding people like the plague." He said, sounding unhappy about it.

"What changed?" Dean asked, taking a long swig of his beer.

"You are what changed, you moron. I met you, and then I met your friends and your family. It brought me out of this self-imposed seclusion. You brought me back into the world, made me see that there is more than school and loneliness."

"I guess we helped each other. It's definitely mutual. Sam said about a thousand times that you're the reason I came home." He said, loosely wrapping an arm around Castiel's shoulder.

"And?"

"It's true."

Castiel just smiled a little bit, that familiar distant look on his face, which reminded Dean that there was so much he didn't know about him. Maybe he really had been pathetic. Dean couldn't know. He ached to know more about Castiel and Sam's discussion about mental health. It was a perspective they clearly shared and one Dean knew nothing about.

"New Years Eve tomorrow." Castiel commented, changing the subject, just as Dean was beginning to get curious. "Got any plans?"

"Gabe is having another party."

"Sounds like fun. We going?"

"Duh. Charlie insists there is something we have to see and we had such a good time last time, then why the hell not?"

"Good. It'll be fun." Castiel said. "Hey, Dean. There is something I wanted to discuss, before everything gets crazy again with school and Jo and Charlie."

Dean leaned over and kissed him deeply on the lips. "First, I wanted to do that." He murmured. "In case you're mad."

Castiel just laughed. "I'm not mad, you goof, but I will take that." He kissed him back, and for a minute Dean just wanted him to shut up, since they really hadn't been _alone_ in days. Castiel pulled away though and continued. "A few days ago you asked me something and I didn't think it was appropriate to bring it up until now. You asked me if I could come with you. To school, I mean. To wherever you go to school."

Dean nodded a little bit. He remembered and he'd been dying to bring it up too. He felt cold though, half expecting Cas to tell him that there was no way that it would happen, that they'd have to break up or try a long distance relationship if Dean decided to leave Plainville. Dean had been dreading this conversation and he desperately wanted to return to the kissing. He still hadn't told Cas that he'd started applying to grad school, although now it seemed like he would have to be honest. He also knew that he wanted Cas to come with him, wherever he went. He wished that he could just go to Collins College for his next degree, but the program he was interested in did not exist at such a small school, nor were similar programs ranked as well as the programs at other schools that Dean was looking into attending.

"I'll come with you. If you still want me to come, that is." Castiel said, looking down a little bit, smiling shyly.

Dean's eyes widened. Okay, maybe he'd been more than half-expecting Cas to dump him or propose they engage in a long distance relationship.

"You will?" Dean sat up, reenergized, ecstatic. "Oh God, Cas. Thank God. Thank you. But what about… everything you have here?" He asked, kicking himself mentally for asking the second part of the question.

Cas sighed a little bit. "I won't lie. I love this town. I like my job. But I don't want to teach, not forever. I'm good at it, but it's not a career for me. Plus, being an adjunct isn't the greatest gig in the world. The pay sucks, I have to buy my own health insurance and there isn't much stability. I think it's time for me to move on to the next thing."

"Which is?" Dean asked. He really had no idea what Castiel's clear plans were beyond teaching. Dean almost only knew him as a teacher.

"The next step is a new home, a new career. If I can't find a job I like right away, I'm sure I could find a position at whatever school you attend. Obviously, you're a large factor in my decision. I don't think I could stand being away from you, not by a long shot, but it's time to move on with my life in all areas." He sighed and leaned against Dean.

Dean couldn't help it. He grabbed him and kissed him again, all tongue this time, sloppy because he was so excited. Castiel kissed him back, with less tongue, and then straddled him, more aggressive than Dean was, as usual. This was beginning to not surprise him anymore.

After an hour of "we're moving away together" sex, they went to bed. As he watched Castiel curl into his usual fetal position, he thought about how much had changed since he'd barreled over Cas in the quad. He had never imagined he'd leave Plainville in a relationship, let alone with a boy who would follow him anywhere. He'd certainly diverged from the path he'd set for himself, but it was so good that he didn't even mind not knowing what was next.

While Halloween was Castiel's favorite holiday, New Year's Eve was Dean's. Not because it was an excuse to get fucked up and kiss anyone you wanted at midnight, but because it was a fresh start. He knew it was hokey, but Dean was more sentimental than he'd ever let anyone see.

It was in the evening, five or six hours before midnight and they were standing in Jo's bedroom, staring at Charlie's right thigh. Charlie was outrageous and Dean was used to it. He thought he was so used to it, that she would never shock him again. He was wrong.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe you did it." Jo said in disbelief. "How bored were you while we were gone?"

"Pretty bored." Charlie admitted, grinning at them. "But isn't it fucking awesome?"

"It's actually pretty awesome." Dean agreed.

"It's very detailed." Castiel said in awe. "The colors are amazing. This is a piece of art, my friend." He reached in and stroked her skin. Normally this would piss Dean off, but right now he didn't care.

Over winter break, Charlie had gotten the tattoo she'd been talking about forever. Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a 20-sided dice. Not only had she gotten the tattoo, but it was huge, colorful and took up most of her right thigh.

"How long did it take?" Dean asked. "Don't tattoos that size normally take hours?"

"I was bored." She intoned.

"Well, you are officially more of a bad ass than I am." Jo said, her eyes taking in the slave bikini. "I'd never have the balls to get something that huge."

Charlie grinned and let her skirt fall down. "I told you guys you'd love it. It's not as ridiculous as you thought, eh?"

"It totally is. In fact, it's more ridiculous." Dean said.

Charlie scowled at him, but didn't lose her trademark smile, instead choosing to give him the finger.

"It's actually pretty hot." Jo said, licking her lips.

"Girls with tattoos are totally hot." Charlie said. "Now I am one of them. Maybe I should try out to be a Suicide Girl."

"I meant the tattoo, not you." Jo said, smirking at her.

"Is Anna gonna be around tonight? Because you know, there is another redhead in town." Charlie said, wagging her eyebrows perversely.

Jo stared for a minute, as if she was deciding what to say, but then smiled back at her, smoldering as much as she could. Dean felt sick. His sisters were flirting, but they'd already started drinking before he and Castiel had arrived, so he paid it no mind.

Castiel watched this interaction with fascination. Dean grabbed his hand and led him into the living room.

"The flirting we just witnessed between them- are they being serious?" Castiel hissed. "I think that's a terrible idea."

"No, Cas, they're not being serious. They always get drunk and flirt. I just think it's amped up a little bit because Charlie was just flashing her inner thigh and effectively, her lacy black underwear." Dean said, shaking her head.

"Do you think Charlie is attractive?" Castiel asked, trying to keep his voice low, as if the question were offensive. "Because you know, I didn't even notice the underwear."

"I still do like girls, Cas. Not those two though. Not like that. They're like my obnoxious younger sisters. For that reason, I don't find them hot. I only noticed the underwear because seeing it creeped me out a little bit." He said, feigning a shudder.

Cas frowned a little bit. "Well, okay. I suppose it'd be wrong of me to assume that they are attracted to each other just because they are both lesbians. I hate it when people assume that about me and my friends who just so happen to be gay. I suppose it'd also be wrong of me to assume that you are no longer attracted to women just because we're together."

Dean just laughed again. "Oh, Cas. You take everything so seriously. Don't worry about any women though. As long as I've got you, they hardly cross my mind."

To prove his point, he leaned in and pulled the smaller man close. He kissed him, licking into his mouth. He slid his hands done Cas's side, over his hips and then into his back pockets, squeezing his ass. Castiel groaned a little bit and rutted against him, running his own hands up the back of Dean's shirt, fingers running over taut muscles. They stood there, kissing and grinding almost obscenely. Dean had to pull away before Jo came out and humiliated them even further.

"In that blazer, you're like a piece of candy. Formal wear makes you look positively edible." Dean murmured. "Gotta keep it clean though, for the lesbians."

"I guess this was just a preview for later then?" Castiel replied, his voice slightly choked and breathy.

"Think of it as an appetizer."

"What's dessert? Maybe chocolate? A whipped cream bikini, perhaps?"

Dean chuckled at the visual and at Castiel's lame attempt at flirting. "We could try that. Since you're edible and all." He kissed him again to prove his point.

On cue, Jo and Charlie came out of the bedroom, Jo making vomiting noises, which were also on cue.

"Hands to yourselves! You're making me sick!" She yelled.

Dean groaned and pulled away. "You are the most immature person I have ever met."

Jo gave them a serene smile.

"It's just because we were at his mother's house for a week." Castiel explained, as if Jo were actually offended. "Making up for lost time."

"Making up for lost time? Sam told me you two were like dogs in heat and he eventually had to wear ear plugs to bed." Jo said, her smile becoming more Cheshire cat-like and evil.

Dean flushed. "Enough."

"We look awesome." Charlie said, mercifully changing the subject.

Castiel examined their outfits. "Occasionally I wish it were acceptable for me to dress in drag constantly." He said thoughtfully. "I mean, Charlie, that corset? That swirly skirt? Fabulous. Jo, you may be wearing a tutu, but you make it hot. The two of you look awesome. Dean and I look boring."

"Speak for yourself." Dean deadpanned. "I look awesome. Little Joey Potter looks stupid."

"Tutus were actually featured in New York Fashion Week this fall. They're all the rage, the frillier, the better. Jo actually is very chic right now." Castiel said, ignoring Dean in a very Jo-like manner.

"Thanks, Cas! I think my outfit is a lot of fun. You'd look awesome in a tutu." Jo said, sounding genuine for once.

"How about not." Dean interjected.

Jo ignored him too. "One more thing though—Charlie, How did we not realize he was gay right away?" Jo asked her friend with the Princess Leia tattoo.

Charlie just shrugged. "Who knows? Kind of baffles me now, especially considering Dean and his knowledge of New York Fashion Week."

"You're telling me." Castiel said, grinning at them. "I mean, seriously, it makes me wonder about your intelligence or at least your gaydar."

That shut Jo right up and they left the apartment to load into the Impala and head to Gabe's house for his New Year's Eve party. On the way, they stopped at the liquor store and picked up a few bottles of wine, a bottle of Honey Brown, and other party favors. They arrived at Gabe's around 7:30, earlier than usual, but it was New Year's Eve and Jo had made noise about getting there early in case Anna happened to be in town. Dean was beginning to suspect that Jo's fascination with Anna extended beyond hooking up during holiday parties, but he didn't say anything because he wasn't as immature as she was. At least he usually wasn't.

Gabe answered them at the door, sporting a truly a ridiculous purple velour suit. "Ladies and germs! Welcome! You're early, but I'd expect nothing less.

"Hey Gabe." Charlie said. "What time are we on tonight? I'm trying to decide how much alcohol is socially acceptable for our set."

"I'd say 10:30 or 11. Imbibe as much as you want, darling, it's the New Year!" He said. He turned to Jo and gave her a huge smile. "Jo, I love the tutu. You are such a pretty little ballerina."

"Gabe, your flirting is beginning to get creepy." She said, smirking at him. "Is your sister here? I'm much more interested in her."

"Jo, you are no White Swan, thus my affections. I like your bite!" He said, winking at her. "Since you are immune to my charms, you can have my sister. Anna will be here later. She has to stop by some event for work, then she's driving up."

Jo's eyes lit up for just a second and nodded. "Good, good."

Gabe led them to his enormous dining room and they sat down around the table, and Gabe and Charlie's other band mates were there too, as well as Meg, the girl had flirted so incessantly with Castiel during Halloween. Castiel noticed her immediately, and his face tightened up into a mask at the sight of her, especially when she leered at him with the same look she'd given him at Halloween. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it when Dean glared at her in a way that said _"Back off bitch, he's mine."_ To further claim his territory, Dean reached over and grabbed his hand, this time not caring who saw them together. Castiel actually relaxed under his touch, a marked change from how he reacted while they were in Lawrence. Dean supposed holding hands in front of their peers was a little different than holding hands in front of his mom, or somehow their roles had reversed during the short trip home and now Castiel was the one embarrassed by public displays of affection.

Meg's face changed and she smirked a little bit. "So, you guys are like a thing now? Officially?"

"Yes, Meg. We're a thing." He smiled at her, sweet as honey, keeping the _Bitch, please_ look plastered on his face just in case.

"Good to know. Hey, Cas, sorry for acting like such a moron last time we hung out. Admittedly, I was pretty high." She said, shrugging.

"I-it's okay." He stuttered. "I suppose I'm flattered."

She just nodded and turned her attentions to Nick, Charlie's drummer, their resident drug dealer, and once again, he didn't seem to mind a bit. After all, he was the devil. Right now, he was taking Meg's attention from Castiel and for this reason, Dean was beginning to forgive him for the mushrooms he sold Charlie and Jo, the mushrooms that had caused him to miss Bon Jovi.

The rest of the evening continued in this fashion, easy, light-hearted, and less wild than the Halloween party. As Dean sat around the table with Charlie's friends and later as more people from Plainville poured into Gabe's house and he, Charlie, Jo and Cas did a round of whiskey shots to commemorate the end of the year, he realized that he was going to miss this. Usually celebrating the end of the year was clichéd and pointless, but this really was the end of this chapter of his life.

Dean had one semester of college left, and really, it hardly would be like college at all since he'd be working at the hospital three or four days a week. Since he'd be interning at night and going to labs during the day, there was a chance he wouldn't get to attend many more parties (not that he'd gone to many to begin with) and more importantly, he'd have fewer evenings on the couch with Jo and Dr. Sexy MD, fewer on-campus lunches at the student center and less opportunities for the youthful exuberance that had made up his four and a half years at Collins College.

Although he was roughly three years from 30, Dean was growing the fuck up and strangely, it was for a second time. He'd run away to college, 2000 miles away, a little bit older than most in age and spirit, having grown up way too fast, spending what he thought were his best years caring for a sick brother. During his time at college, he'd digressed, which was supposedly the opposite of what was supposed to happen. He ran so far, so fast, that he'd become a little bit less of a man, more of a child. .

Until, one day, he'd literally run someone over and he finally had to slow down.

Castiel had grabbed a hold of him with a fixed and strange stare that brought him back to earth and made him see what life had to offer him. Castiel had shown him the beauty of what had been in front of him all along. His family, his friends and the enormous amounts of love he had to offer them. Castiel had made him unafraid.

Dean, despite being the overgrown man-child that he knew himself to be, had inadvertently done something similar for Castiel.

Castiel had been stuck, covering his eyes, hiding because he was convinced the world was out to get him, convinced he was too broken to be loved by anyone. Dean had shown him that it wasn't and that he could be loved. Dean had shown him that he could be loved _because_ of who is, not _despite_ who he is.

More than anything, in the short five months they'd known each other, they'd opened each other's eyes, and in the process of facing their demons and popping their bubbles, they'd given each other the world.


	21. Chapter 21

_18 months later._

It's May and as usual, it's warm and it's raining. It always rains here, but Dean doesn't mind. Living in Seattle, when it rains, it pours, and if it's not raining, then you've probably crossed the border into Oregon.

Dean stampedes into their mercifully tiny apartment, whooping, yelling. "I'm a genius! I am a goddamn genius!" He yells. "Cas, baby, where are you? We have to celebrate!"

Dean gets no response, so he wanders into their bedroom, where Castiel is propped up, scribbling away in his ubiquitous sketchbook. He looks up, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. Castiel frowns at him, seeming like he doesn't give a shit about Dean's great news, about the fact that Dean, the genius, has just finished his first semester of his freakin'  _bioengineering_ PhD program with a 4.0 GPA. Dean shivered when he thought about it. Most people couldn't even define bioengineering. No doubt about it, Dean Winchester is a genius.

"It's 10:30." Castiel whines. "Dean, where were you?"

He smiles coyly at him and launches himself into the bed like an overexcited toddler. Castiel yelps in surprise and the papers go flying from his hands, much like they did the first night they ever hooked up and Castiel had thrown the papers he'd been grading on the floor. On his hands and knees, Dean reaches in and nuzzles the side of his face, kissing his jaw and then his cheek.

"I was at the office, cleaning out my desk for the summer, when I saw the email. All A's, baby. Your boy finished up with a 4.0 GPA this semester. Holy shit, I didn't even think I'd make it through this semester in the beginning!"

This time Castiel lets out an overexcited whoop. "Holy fuck! No wonder you're so amped! Congratulations! You are officially on your way to being Dr. Dean Winchester!"

Castiel throws the rest of his papers on the ground and with inhuman strength, pulls him on top of him, giving into a deep kiss and Dean thinks that it's fully reminiscent of that first night now. He kisses him back, ridiculously excited now.

Dean sighs and leans into him, kissing him again. Pulling away, he glances down at Castiel, whose glasses have almost fallen off his face by now. A smile creeps onto his face. "Say it."

Castiel frowns. "What?" Then it occurs to him. "No, Dean. I am not calling you that."

Dean pulls himself up, so one leg is on each side of Castiel's slender frame. "Say it." He coos. "Come on. I deserve it."

"No! I don't care if you're going to have more degrees than me and it'll officially be your title. I am not calling you that! I hate that fucking show, Dean."

"I'm your…." He croons. "I'm your…"

Castiel growls and takes off his glasses. "You're my Dr. Sexy." He grumbles, his face turning red.

Dean squeals again and collapses on top of him, kissing him again, grinding into him, showing him that it may be 10:30 (they're old now) but sex is more than required for an occasion like this. Castiel groans and returns the kiss, his own hips involuntarily bucking up to meet him. It's been two years, but Dean still wants to devour him, every inch of him.

Dean's distracted when his phone rings.

"Don't answer that." Cas hisses, carding his fingers through Dean's hair, short nails on his scalp making him shudder. Dean almost doesn't, until he notices the ring tone.

It's No Scrubs. Jo's ringtone. She's currently 175 miles away, living in Portland with Anna, but she still manages to cock block him at every opportunity. Dean groans and lifts himself off Cas, pulling the phone from his pocket.

"Christ, your timing is still terrible. That's never going to change is it? " Dean said. He looks down at his boyfriend, who currently is managing to look pissed off, aroused and amused, all at once.

"I  _was_ calling to congratulate you, you asshole." She says.

Dean softens. "Thanks, Jo. You were the first person I told."

"Dr. Dean Winchester. I can't believe you're going to be a fucking doctor, Dean-o." For once, Jo is both good-natured and genuine.

"How's work? How's Anna?"

"Work's great. The glamorous world of being an assistant at a boutique PR firm, lowest rung on the totem pole, you know. Big thrills, big chills." Jo says drily. She really wanted a promotion and more money. "Anna's fabulous, of course." Her voice perks up when she says her name and Dean's glad, so glad, that Jo won that bet between them.

"Still glad you finally decided to make it official. It took long enough." Dean chuckled. "Charlie's coming through in a few weeks. One of her bands is touring the coast and she's hitching a ride. We'll have to get together."

Charlie, somewhat unsurprisingly, ended getting a job managing a number of punk bands for Victory Records. Castiel jokingly calls her a sell out, but she's happy.

"Duh. How's Cas?"

"He's below me."

"Sick! Dean! I didn't want to know that! Why the hell would you answer your phone while you were having sex?" She cries, making exaggerated retching noises.

"We weren't having sex yet." Cas calls. "As usual, I can hear you, Jo."

"Hey, Cas! Anyway, I'll let you… get back to that. Congratulations buddy. I'm happy for you. I love you."

"Love you too, little Joey Potter."

Dean hangs up and puts the phone on silent. "Now where were we?" He murmurs, leaning against Castiel again. "Oh yeah, I'm Dr. Sexy and you're my nurse."

Castiel groans at his horrible joke, because Dean's jokes are always terrible, but kisses him anyway.

The next day, a Saturday morning, the first day of his summer, Dean's basking in being able to sleep in for once, no labs, no papers calling his name when Castiel's phone rings.

"Cas." He moans as the horrible sounds of Melt Banana rouse him from delicious sleep. "Cas, turn off your goddamn phone or change your ringtone, for the love of God."

Dean opens his eyes and realizes Cas isn't in bed. Dean moans again, and answers the phone without looking at who is calling. "Yes? Who is calling Cas Novak at… uh, 11 on a Saturday?"

"Dean?" A familiar voice says. "Shit."

"Sammy?" He mutters, sitting up. "Why are you calling Cas? Is everything okay?"

"Um, it was supposed to be a surprise, but Cas chose the absolute worst time not to answer his phone. I'm outside your apartment and there's some guy looking at me like he thinks I'm a treat. Uh, so can you let me in?"

Dean sits up immediately. His eyes dart around the bedroom. There are clothes everywhere, he's as nude as the day he was born, he's sure he has several dozen hickeys, not to mention the fact that Cas is nowhere to be seen. Plus, a surprise? What the hell kind of surprise is this?

Dean pulls on his clothes and hears Cas in the shower, singing some god awful song, showing that Sam was apparently early for Dean's "surprise." Dean takes a look in the mirror and tries to smooth down his sex hair, checking his neck and shoulders for Cas-sized love bites. Castiel hadn't gotten any less aggressive in the last two years and last night they'd had a lot to celebrate, with Dean's grades, the onset of summer and Castiel's still-recent promotion to head case manager at his job.

Dean stumbles out of the bedroom and presses the button that allows Sam to enter the apartment complex. He hears loud, stomping feet a minute later, indicating that the moose has arrived. Dean opens the door and all 6 feet 4 inches of Sam comes stumbling in, immediately wrapping him up into a tight hug

"Oh God, I've missed you!" Sam yells, literally lifting him off the ground. "Shit! I can't believe Cas didn't answer. I knew I was early!"

Dean gasps for air, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the linoleum. It seems in the last six months, his brother has lost every inch of fat caused by the medication and has apparently taken up weight lifting. Sam sets him down and grins at him. Dean is disgruntled at his hair, which skims his shoulders, long enough to be braided. Sam's jaw is quivering somewhat girlishly, his eyes sparkling with love for his older brother.

Castiel picks the exact wrong time to emerge from the shower, or perhaps the exact right time, because the emotional moment is ruined as Dean's very naked, dripping wet boyfriend saunters from the shower, with a towel wrapped around his head. It's Dean's turn to laugh as Sam's face turns white and Castiel screams bloody murder and scrambles into the bedroom and slams the door.

Fifteen minutes later, after Dean has recovered from laughing and Sam and Castiel have recovered from their collective humiliation, the three of them are seated around the oak dinner table that Castiel bought at Goodwill, drinking coffee, with Castiel explaining Sam's sudden appearance in Seattle.

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Castiel grumbles. "I was going to surprise you with breakfast, then tell you I'd paid for a plane ticket for Sam to come visit for a week."

"The plane was early. I didn't want to wait, so I called a cab. Figured I'd save you the trouble." Sam says, shrugging. "Although now I wish I had waited."

Castiel turned pink and Dean just laughs, leaning in and giving him a big kiss on the cheek. "Best surprise ever."

Sam rolled his eyes and made a face. "You guys are like stuck in that 'new couple phrase' aren't you? I swear, I thought I'd be getting away from that coming here. First, mom and Victor, now you and Cas. I thought you'd be done with constant PDA by now."

"Never." Dean declares. "Cas is too cute when he's embarrassed, which is almost always."

"Victor and Mary are still going strong?" Cas asks with interest. "How strange that it took a divorce and dating her divorce lawyer to finally make her happy."

"We never do things the normal way." Sam says, shrugging.

"Winchesters are freaks." Dean added. "Except I guess now she's Campbell?"

"Pretty much." Sam says. "Speaking of Winchesters, don't hate me for bringing it up, but dad is in AA."

Dean thought about saying something sarcastic, but decided against it. Sam was willing to forgive his father, but he always had been. Sam was in many ways the stronger one, despite being damaged beyond belief by his father's absence and his father's genes, since they'd found a relative on their father's side that had it. Sam knew now where his chemical imbalance came from and he forgave John Winchester for that too. Dean would never forgive his father. That was one demon he wasn't willing to exorcise.

"You're still doing well?" He felt dumb asking, because for once, it was obvious.

Sam had been there 15 minutes and once again, Dean was amazed at what a new man he was, yet again. Sam's eyes were bright and clear, his speech sharp, and unless you knew his past, you'd never suspect everything the younger Winchester had been through, the battles he'd fought inside his mind.

"A little over a year, no relapses. No change in medication either. They finally found the right mixture of drugs." Sam says triumphantly.

Schizophrenia was a war that would never be over, but Sam had at least won a few battles.

Dean nodded. "Jess?"

"Beautiful, stunning, smart and just a little less crazy than I am." Sam admitted, a smile spreading across his face. Sam had met his current girlfriend in his shrink's office. Major depressive disorder, but when she was smiling, it lit up the room.

The Winchesters never went about anything normally, not even courtship.

"That's good to hear, Sammy."

"What about you two?" Sam asks. "How'd the semester end up? Cas, how's the new gig? "

Dean cackled, his ego from the night before returning. "Straight A's." He boasted. Then he said it again, simply because he could. "I'm going to be Doctor Dean Winchester."

Castiel cringed a little bit, probably because in the heat of the moment the night before, he'd yelled " _OH DOCTOR!"_ And Dean had already decided to  _never_ let him live it down.

"My new position is going swimmingly. Somehow, even being the head case manager at a rehabilitation center is less glamorous than teaching brain dead freshmen social theory, but it's much more fulfilling. I love it, I really do. I feel like I'm finally giving back." Cas says.

"Hey, don't forget how we met." Dean teased, elbowing him. "Am I brain dead?"

"No, Dean, you're a doctor. You're Doctor Sexy." He deadpanned.

This time it was Dean who blushed. Leave it to Castiel to get the last word.

**_THE END!_ **


End file.
